


Fatal Attraction

by xBlackxRosexRebellionx



Category: Red Canyon (2008)
Genre: Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Drug Use, F/M, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Love Triangles, Mac's a crazy SOB, Multi, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Twisted, Twisted Love Affairs, We love him though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-28 00:24:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 50,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20957414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xBlackxRosexRebellionx/pseuds/xBlackxRosexRebellionx
Summary: "Sweeter than an angel or worse than the Devil himself" describes Ziva Chevenandrova to a T.It all started when Devon decided to give Mac a little present, hoping to get back in his good graces. But that little "present" turned out to be more trouble than Mac or Devon could ever imagine. Mac's found himself a WHOLE new addiction but it might be short-lived. He's finally met his match with the raven-haired hellcat but will someone take his new toy away from him?As their past is slowly revealed and secrets come to light, it becomes harder to decipher whose life is more complicated. And just what does the future have in store for them?





	1. Heaven Knows

** Author’s Note: ** ** Well, I’ve had quite a bit of help with this chapter. I managed to gain a beta – along with my editor and chief-of-fucking-everything. And 4 of my faithfuls – and friends, I might add – agreed to read over the very first draft – what I call the “shitty first draft”. So there will be personal thank you notes at the end of the chapter for all those lovely ladies.**

**That being said, this story is unlike anything I’ve ever done before. I think you’ll realize what I’m talking about when you finish the chapter. I wanted this story to be much more intense than all my other Red Canyon stories. I wanted to keep Mac as true to his character in the movie as I could, which is something I think I failed at miserably with all my other Mac stories. I don’t want to water him down or romanticize him. I want him to be just as merciless, insatiable, and downright psychotic as he was in the movie. Due to that little fact, I’ve concocted this sick and twisted story which is aptly named. While this _is_ a Red Canyon story and Mac will be quite a central character within it, I’d like to point out that there will be 5 main characters in this story, not just Mac.**

**Finally, just a little note to all of my readers out there – especially if you’ve followed me over from my Walking Dead stories – I’ve made a personal goal for myself to _finish_ a story for once. So, I’ll be focusing solely on “Fatal Attraction” and “This Broken Road” until they’re complete. This means that all of you Dixon vixens will still be able to get your fix, even while the Mac girls get theirs. However, I’ve been in a _major_ “Mac mood” lately so I think it’s safe to say that you’ll be seeing a _lot_ more of Mac before I’m ready to switch to Daryl.**

** _And_ ** **, before I leave you all to enjoy this chapter, I have _one_ more announcement: I have created a Facebook page _just_ for this Fanfiction account. So, you can check out the banners I’ve made for the characters in both of the stories I’ll be working on until they’re completed, get sneak peeks of the songs that I’ll be incorporating into my chapters, and keep updated on what I’m doing. _Anyone_ can send friend requests so don’t be shy. You can find me by searching for “Rose Rebellion” – the cover photo is a picture of Daryl Dixon and the profile picture is one of Mac in the cave.**

** _All_ ** ** comments, questions, concerns are welcome – whether positive _or_ negative. The second chapter has already been started, but we’ll see how long it takes me to finish it. I’ve managed to land myself a second job this summer so it’s really cut into my writing time.**

** **

** _Fatal Attraction_ **

** **

** Chapter 1: Heaven Knows **

_(Adrenalize me)_  
  
Come a little bit closer  
Before we begin  
Let me tell you how I want it  
And exactly what I need  
  
I'm here for one drug  
I'm only here for one thing  
So come on and tell me,  
Can you fly like you're free?  
  
Cause I need to feel  
Yeah, I need to say  
  
I must confess,  
I'm addicted to this  
Shove your kiss straight through my chest  
I can't deny, I'd die without this  
Make me feel like a God  
Music, love, and sex  
(Adrenalize me)  
I crave excess,  
Turning wine into sweat dripping down my neck  
I can't deny, I'd die without this  
Make me feel like a God  
Adrenaline and sex  
  
Get a little bit higher,  
So we can fall 'til we bleed  
Push a little bit harder  
Pull me into the speed  
  
So tell me, can you feel this?  
Come into my dream  
Are you ready to awaken?  
Are you ready to feed?  
  
Cause I need to feel,  
Yeah, I need to say  
  
I must confess,  
I'm addicted to this  
Shove your kiss straight through my chest  
I can't deny, I'd die without this  
Make me feel like a God  
Music, love, and sex  
(Adrenalize me)  
I crave excess,  
Turning wine into sweat dripping down my neck  
I can't deny, I'd die without this  
Make me feel like a God  
Adrenaline and sex  
  
We have to live before we die  
We were born to live before we die  
Don't you wanna live before you die?  
Let me see you live before you die  
  
Right here, right now,  
Adrenalize me

_Right here, right now,  
Adrenalize_

_Right here, right now,_  
Adrenalize me  
  
Right here, right now  
I'm addicted to this  
  
I must confess,  
I'm addicted to this  
Shove your kiss straight through my chest  
I can't deny, I'd die without this  
Make me feel like a God  
Music, love, and sex  
(Adrenalize me)  
I crave excess,  
Turning wine into sweat dripping down my neck  
I can't deny, I'd die without this  
Make me feel like a God  
Adrenaline and sex  
  
(Adrenalize me)

** **

** _~*Dahlia*~_ **

** **

Dahlia Chevenandrova looked up into the rearview mirror, finding that both of her boys were asleep. A smile tugged at her lips as she took in the scene, finding Wick slumped over against the passenger side window of the back seat while Chaz sat behind the driver’s seat with his head rested back against the headrest, his mouth hanging open a bit as he snored softly. Both of them were out like a fucking light.

She bit her bottom lip to keep from giggling. They were adorable. She debated about whether or not she should wake them up but finally decided to let them sleep. They’d have all their shit to unload from the damn U-Haul that was following them once they got to their new house in Caineville, Utah. Dahlia had gone out to check it out herself, meeting with a creepy ass Mexican named Walter Sanchez. Dahlia wasn’t racist, not by _any_ means. Hell she had friends of varying races and ethnicities back in L.A. But this Walter guy had a tendency to let his eyes linger on her a bit too long and he liked to let them roam over her body, making awkwardly lengthy pauses at her breasts and her ass. Her skin had crawled any time he’d looked at her when he’d been showing her around the house.

Walter apparently owned a few houses that were up for rent in the tiny little Podunk town of Caineville. He also owned the motels that sat across from The Luna Mesa, the only bar in town, which he just so _happened_ to conveniently own and run himself as well. The only buildings in town were all locally owned. Deb’s Diner was the only restaurant in Caineville so the residents didn’t have a lot of options as far as dining out was concerned. Mac’s Auto Body was the only repair shop for miles so there was no doubt that it brought in quite a bit of business from the locals. The small town also housed a tiny doctor’s office, a post office, a single grocery store, a hardware store, a charming little church, a gas station that also served as a convenience store, and a farm supply store. There was a tiny police station too but she was willing to bet that the Caineville police were a _joke_. And that’s _exactly_ what made Caineville the ideal town for relocating. No one would ever think to look for them in a tiny town. So, when she’d discovered that Walter had a few houses up for rent while she’d been at the bar, she’d agreed to check some of them out. She’d decided to go with the last one that he’d shown her since it was the best he had to offer.

Dahlia had known from the second she walked into the little house that it was home. She could just _feel_ it. A calm, relaxing sensation had seeped into her body as Walter had shown her around the place. The first room in the house was a living room with cream colored walls and soft, light beige carpeting. The kitchen had light cream linoleum and the walls were painted a deep red with cherry wood cabinets and the countertops were made of shiny, cream colored granite. There was one bathroom upstairs, housing a simple, white porcelain bathtub, a matching toilet, and simple, black cabinets with the same cream granite countertop from the kitchen. The carpeting in the bathroom was short but cushiony and it was cream in color to match the countertop. The walls were painted the lightest shade of blue, complementing the rest of the bathroom nicely.

There were three bedrooms in the house, one with deep red walls and cream colored carpet that she knew Chaz would be quick to claim as his own, one with navy colored walls and matching carpeting that she knew Wick would call dibs on, and one with black walls and cream carpet that she wanted for herself. Granted, the boys would wind up sleeping with her of a night. There was no denying that. But at least it would give them a place to keep their things and, if they ever had any guests, she knew that the boys would fight over who had to give up their room to said guests.

The house even had a complete basement, which housed a living room area that she knew the boys would want to claim as their “man cave”, a pantry built under the stairwell, a full set of cabinets, a washer and dryer set, a second bathroom that housed a shower instead of a bathtub, an old refrigerator that had been left behind by its previous owners, and a deep freeze. She’d loved the house at first sight. So what if it didn’t have a garage. So what if it was a few miles from town. So what if it wasn’t upscale. She didn’t need fancy things. She and the boys just needed a place to lay low for a while. Hell, maybe they’d even settle down in Caineville if they liked it. All she knew was that they had to find a place to hide out until shit cooled down back in L.A.

She navigated her way down the main street of Caineville, passing through the town square, and continued on until she found the turn off onto the dirt road that would take her out to their new home. When she finally pulled up in front of the place, she found Walter’s old truck already parked in front of the house. She turned the car off and tugged her keys from the ignition before unfastening her seatbelt and turning around in her seat to reach back and gently shake Wick’s leg before giving one of Chaz’s legs the same treatment.

“Hey, wake up, boys. We’re here,” she informed them.

Wick gave a little groan and tried to wriggle closer to the side of the car but Chaz’s head snapped up and he began to look around, taking in their surroundings.

After a couple minutes’ worth of assessment, Chaz reached out to smack Wick in the chest with a loud, satisfying _whack_, commanding, “Wake the fuck up, ya lazy fucker.”

Dahlia laughed at that and chided in a teasing tone, “Oh! Like you’ve got any room ta talk. You were snorin’ away, usin’ your damn mouth as a fuckin’ fly trap, head tipped back on the seat and mouth wide open.”

She turned her attention to a now-grumbling Wick and reached out to give his knee a gentle, reassuring squeeze, murmuring in a soothing tone, “Come on, baby. It’s best ta get this shit over with so we can head ta the bar and grab some food. The sooner we get all this shit moved in, the better. It’ll be one less thing we’ll hafta worry about.”

Wick grumbled some more, mumbling something about “too fuckin’ early for this shit” even as he reached out to find the lever to flip the front passenger seat up and push himself to his feet. He found the handle of the door and pushed it open, climbing out of Dahlia’s 1990 Chevy Camaro. Dahlia slid out of the driver’s seat and flipped the seat up for Chaz to climb out of the back.

Walter hopped out of his truck and started over towards them. Dahlia felt Chaz reach out to drape a strong, tattooed arm over her shoulders as he lowered his head a little and narrowed his hazel eyes at the 60-something Mexican man with a gray ponytail that matched his cholo mustache and small beard he was sporting. Wick eyed him too while he leaned against the side of the Camaro.

“You Walter?” Chaz asked the man.

Walter just nodded to him and Chaz gave a slow nod. She watched as both of her boys eyed Walter and he did the same. They looked each other up and down, clearly sizing each other up. Dahlia rolled her eyes. Men and their stupid testosterone!

“So my girl here tells me ya really hooked us up,” Chaz commented, gesturing towards the house with one hand.

He eased Dahlia closer, tucking her into his side as he stared Walter down, and Dahlia wrapped an arm around his waist, resting her cheek over his firm, broad chest. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and Wick narrowed his hazel eyes at Walter a bit.

After a few moments of awkward silence had passed, which really felt like _hours_ to Dahlia, she gave Chaz’s waist a slight squeeze before stepping away from him a bit and scolding gently, “All right, boys. Put your dicks away. Cut it with the pissin’ match. There’s no need for hostility here. Walter hooked us up with a _really_ nice place, real cozy and homey. So we should be _thankin’_ him, not castin’ glares and silent threats.”

Walter reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys, reaching out to hand them to Dahlia. Chaz was quick to stick out his hand though and Walter paused, looking at first Dahlia and then Chaz before looking back at Dahlia again.

Dahlia rolled her green eyes and finally stated, “Go ahead and give them ta him.”

Walter nodded and dropped the set of keys into Chaz’s big hand.

“There’s one to the front door and the back door both,” Walter stated, gesturing with a nod of his head towards the keys he’d just handed over to Chaz.

Awkward silence ensued again before Wick pushed himself off the side of Dahlia’s bright purple Camaro and sauntered over to her, wrapping an arm around her waist. Walter was staring. _again_. And it was starting to piss the boys off.

Both of them narrowed their eyes at him and Chaz asked, “You got a fuckin’ starin’ problem, old man?”

“I was waiting to see if you folks needed help moving your things in,” Walter replied, even though they _all_ knew it wasn’t true.

“Nah, man,” Wick answered, shaking his head, “We got it.”

Walter gave a slow nod and reached up to stroke at his beard with his thumb and index finger as he narrowed his dark eyes a little.

“_Well_…” Chaz hinted, “Go on. Get!”

He gestured with a wave of his hand towards Walter’s truck and Walter narrowed his eyes into little slits, glaring at Chaz before giving another slow nod and heading over to his truck. He climbed in and backed out of the drive. When he was out of sight, Dahlia finally released a full body shudder. The guy gave her the fucking creeps.

Both of the boys tightened their hold on her, peering down at her and leaning down to press a tender kiss to either of her temples.

“Don’t you fuckin’ worry. We won’t be leavin’ ya alone around that fucker,” Chaz reassured her, “The creepy ass motherfucker better _never_ let me catch those fuckin’ eyes of his roamin’ over my baby again.”

Dahlia grinned up at him and he leaned down to capture her lips with his. It started as a simple, quick little peck. But it quickly escalated, turning into a tongue-twisting, toe-curling, moan-inducing kiss that had her fisting her hands in the front of his black t-shirt with a Metallica logo on it and tugging him closer to her. Their tongues danced and tangled. She’d always thought that Chaz had a knack for kissing. It was like he made love to her mouth with his. It was always so sensual, so passionate, so addicting. And, just like she always did, she felt a moan of disappointment bubbling up from her throat as he eased back from the kiss. She gave a little pout and he chuckled, the corners of his mouth quirking upward in that characteristic little smirk of his.

“Oh now… No need ta go poutin’. There’ll be _plenty_ of time for more of that later,” he assured her, giving her a little wink as his smirk stretched even further across his face, “We’ve gotta get all our shit unpacked first.”

“Hey! Ya fuckin’ dick,” Wick accused, “Why do ya always hafta hog her?”

Chaz just smirked over at him and started for the U-Haul, leaving Wick to turn her around to face him and give her a cocky, crooked little smirk. She bit her bottom lip and his smirk grew wider. Then he leaned in, capturing her lips with his and coaxing her to part her lips for him with teasing little flicks of his tongue. She relented, granting him access, and he took full advantage of the situation, one of his big hands coming up to sift his long, slender fingers through her curly, chin length, jet-black hair and tip her head back. He deepened the kiss then, demanding her submission and rewarding her with a groan when she gave it.

“Hey! More movin’, less fuckin’ around,” Chaz hinted as he headed towards the house with a box he’d pulled from the U-Haul.

Wick eased back from the kiss but rolled his eyes at his best friend.

“Fuckin’ hypocrite,” Wick mumbled under his breath.

“I heard that, asshole!” Chaz called as he carried the first box into their new home.

“Good, ya dirty little bastard!” Wick retorted as he headed towards the back of the moving truck.

Dahlia bit her bottom lip, trying to hold her laughter at bay, and went over to the U-Haul, making sure to tell Skinny Pete thank you for taking the day off of work to come help them get their shit moved into their new house. He just nodded and asked what she wanted him to carry in first. She waited until he was out of sight before she reached out to catch a handful of an unsuspecting Wick’s ass.

“Jesus fuckin’ _Christ_, Dahl!” he cried in surprise as he stood straight again, having reached out to grab a box from the truck.

She gave him a wicked little grin and waggled her raven colored brows at him, teasing, “Well I’ve gotta have _somethin’_ ta tide me over during all this movin’, now don’t I?”

He just chuckled and shook his head at her, starting for the house with the box he’d grabbed.

The group had gotten all the furniture situated in the house first. Then they had carried all the boxes, totes, and duffle bags in to set them in the right rooms, based on the neatly written labels Dahlia had put on them to inform her and the boys of their contents. When the truck was finally empty, Skinny Pete headed out. He had a long drive back to L.A. to return the U-Haul they’d rented.

** **

** _~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~_ **

Dahlia was standing in the living room, gazing around at all the boxes when she heard a familiar set of footsteps shuffling across the linoleum in the kitchen, heading towards the living room. She gave a little groan of defeat as she realized that she had _no_ idea where the fuck to start when it came to unpacking the boxes. They’d spent _hours_ unloading the truck and carrying everything into their new house and now she was exhausted. She’d done _just_ as much heavy-lifting as the boys had. She wasn’t one to just sit around and watch while the others pitched right in to help.

“Fuck the boxes,” she finally decided, voicing her thoughts more to herself than Chaz, who had come to stand just inside the doorway, resting one strong forearm against the doorframe and gazing at her, “I’ll get around to ‘em later.”

“Good,” Chaz agreed, pushing himself off the doorframe and heading into the living room, “I’m about ta take a nap and I could use some fuckin’ company.”

“Well you could always ask Wick,” she teased.

Upon seeing his whole face scrunch up in disgust, she giggled uproariously.

While she might fuck around with both of the guys, there was _no_ question about their sexuality. They were both strictly heterosexual. Pussy and tits were the only things that interested them. Well, to be fair, she was starting to believe that Chaz was onto something when he said that every man had a “trifecta of attention”, like a gravitational pull that drew a man’s attention to 3 particular parts of the female anatomy. Every man was different. They were attracted to different features on a woman’s body. She’d come to learn over the 5 years that she and Chaz Mathers had been dating that he was an “ass, tits, and lips” man. Yet Wick Ramsey, a mutual best friend that she and Chaz had known since they were in grade school and who she’d _also_ been dating for 2 years, was a “legs, lips, and tits” man.

Over the past 2 years, Dahlia had gotten a lot of scrutiny and scorn for dating two men. Honestly, it had never really been something she’d considered until the boys had approached her with the proposition. Wick had been the closest mutual friend she and Chaz had had when they were growing up or, hell, all their life for that matter! One drunken make-out session with both of them had led to a sober one. One sober make-out session with both of the boys had led to an _awful_ lot of gratifying foreplay between her and the boys until she’d become exhausted that night. That little round of “Chaz eats Dahlia’s pussy while she sucks Wick off” had led to a drunken threesome. And it had just spiraled from there. One drunken one became one sober one. One sober one became 3 sober ones. And, the next thing she knew, she was being propositioned by the boys to see if she wanted to make the 3 of them a permanent thing. Hell, if someone had told her back in high school that she’d wind up dating and fucking both of her best friends, her two closest friends that she’d had since they were still in diapers, she would’ve laughed _right_ in their fucking faces.

She’d heard it all. Indecisive whore. Nasty slut. Greedy little bitch. White trash tramp. You name it, she’d heard it. Hell she’d been called everything but a damn white girl. But she didn’t let it bother her. Shit the only opinions that mattered to her were those of Chaz and Wick. As far as she was concerned, everyone else could fuck off. The sneers didn’t bother her. The looks of disgust or shock or even horror didn’t faze her. The hushed whispers and taunting laughter didn’t make her cringe. None of it bothered her. Life was too fucking short to be bothered by petty shit like unimportant douchebags’ opinions of her. She was happy with her boys. They treated her with respect and showered her with all of their love and affection. And that’s _all_ that mattered to her. As long as she had them in her life, she could tackle anything. They’d met each other when they were still in diapers and they’d become a close-knit unit once they reached kindergarten, little partners in crime. And now they were a little love triangle. No. They were a _contented_ little love triangle, one that didn’t let bullshit or drama affect them.

Chaz made his way over to her and stood in front of her, his tall, muscular frame coming to a stop about a foot away from her as he cocked one dark brow at her and crossed his muscular arms over his broad chest. Chaz was the kind of man that all the women were into and, to be honest, she’d discovered that back in junior high. Chaz made her fucking cream her panties, even from some of the most innocent things he did. She was into the bad boys, always had been, and he sure as _hell_ pulled the persona off. Between the tattoos, the piercings, the slightly-baggy jeans, and the classic rock and metal t-shirts he wore, he fit the bad boy persona to a T.

Her eyes roamed over her lifelong best friend and long-time boyfriend, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip as she let her eyes rake over his features. She took her time, letting her eyes take in every detail of him.

He was clean-shaven. He kept his jet-black hair cut short. He had a gauge in both ears. Chaz’s eyes were the most eerie shade of hazel Dahlia had ever seen. They were the strangest mixture of a caramel and green, a light shade of hazel that she’d never seen before. They were several shades lighter than Wick’s. His lips were full and sensual, hiding a set of straight, white teeth and he had his bottom lip pierced, closer to the right corner of his mouth. His cheeks were slender, his jaw line firm, and his chin rounded and slightly-dimpled. His nose was neither too thin nor too wide and it complemented the rest of his features. In fact, his features were undeniably masculine and yet adorably boyish at the same time. When he gave her that dimpled grin that made a smile stretch clear across her own face, he looked like the most adorable man she’d ever known. But, when he was pissed off, his whole face would harden into a mask of pure rage that would make even a grown man cringe and slink away.

He had a broad frame that was toned and firm with muscle, having broad shoulders, a firm chest, and a trim tummy that led down to narrow hips and long legs. What made him even sexier in her eyes though were his tattoos. He had thick, black, tribal tattoos, one with jagged-looking edges that almost resembled thorns that snaked down his left arm and the whole right side of him was covered in an elaborate display of tribal flames that stretched across his right shoulder, chest, back, side, and stomach, clear down to his hip and trailed all the way down his arm to his wrist. There was a black rose on the left side of his neck, a symbol of the gang they’d run with back in L.A. Hell he even had a black, tribal dragon snaking down his left leg, spanning about half of his calf muscle and stretching from the rise of his calf clear down to just above the bend between his foot and his leg.

Chaz gave her that adorable, dimpled little smirk of his and, the next thing she knew, she was being hoisted up into the air and slung over his shoulder.

“Woooo!” she cried in surprise as she was hoisted up over his shoulder.

Her bright green eyes widened as she looked down at the living room floor and she fisted her hands in the back of his t-shirt, clinging to it for dear life as he wrapped one strong arm around her waist to keep her from falling and brought his other hand up to give her a good, solid smack on the ass. His hand landed on her denim-clad ass with a loud, satisfying _whack_. She bit her bottom lip as she felt her pussy clench. _Damn_ him for playing dirty!

“Chaz Mathers, you put me the fuck _down!_” she demanded as he turned and started carrying her towards the kitchen.

“Ya want down?” he asked, letting his arm loosen for just a second so she slipped forward a little.

She shrieked and clawed at his back frantically, trying desperately to get some sort of grip on him. Hell _any_ grip would do.

He just laughed and gave her another swat on the ass.

“Ya said ya wanted down, Dahlia,” he razzed.

“I swear ta _God_, Chaz,” she growled, “If you fuckin’ drop me, you’ll go a fuckin’ _month_ without a_nything_ from me.”

“Ooooo!” he cried, “That’s a little harsh, now isn’t it, Dahlia? You and I _both_ know that ya couldn’t last a fuckin’ month without some form of pleasure. I mean _shit!_ Ya can’t even go _one_ goddamn _day_ without wantin’ one or both of us ta getcha off.”

“And don’t I return the fuckin’ favor?” she questioned, turning herself a bit to glare at the back of his head, not that he could see her.

“Course ya do,” was his answer.

“That’s _right_. But you drop me and you’ll be gettin’ _nothin’_ for a fuckin’ _month_. I’ll go ta Wick for _everything_,” she insisted as he carried her through the kitchen and down the hall towards her new bedroom.

“Bull-_shit_,” he tried to call her bluff, “You’re like a fuckin’ bitch in heat, Dahl. You’re hornier than _half_ of the damn guys I know.”

She gasped and then turned her head to glare at the back of his head again, narrowing her eyes into little slits even as she growled, “_Ooooo!_ That’s gonna fuckin’ cost ya, buddy. _We’ll_ see who’s as fuckin’ horny as a goddamn bitch in heat.”

He’d made it into her room and he closed the door with the heel of his foot. She chose that opportunity to attack. She gave a wicked little grin and then leaned in, sinking her sharp little teeth into his muscular ass cheek over his boxers since his belt was loose today and his jeans were baggy enough to display a little of his boxer-clad ass.

“_Yow!_” he shouted in protest, quickly tossing her down on the bed to reach back and rub at his now-sore ass cheek over the charcoal gray colored cotton of his boxers.

She bounced a bit until she was able to prop herself up on her hands and her ass, a triumphant grin curling at her full, slightly-pouty lips, and he questioned, “You’re mighty fuckin’ proud of your little self, aren’t ya?”

Her smirk only stretched wider across her face.

“I’ll have you know my fuckin’ ass cheek is _offended_,” he informed her.

“Good,” she replied, “Because the asshole it belongs to offended _me_.”

His dark brows hiked up his forehead and he inquired, “You callin’ me an asshole?”

She just held her hands up, palm side facing him, and retorted, “Hey… If the shoe fits…”

“Baby, the only thing that’s gonna be fittin’ is my dick in your pussy,” he told her, moving around to the foot of the bed and reaching down to unfasten the buckle of his belt.

A wicked little grin curled her full, sensual lips as an idea came to her mind. She knew _exactly_ how she could get back at him.

She slid from the bed even as she heard him asking, “Where ya goin’?”

She pulled the bedroom door open and called, “Wick?”

“Yeah?!” she heard him call from his room just before he poked his head out of the doorway, looking down the hall towards her room.

“You down for some fun?” she asked him.

He stepped out into the hallway and started for her room, questioning, “What the fuck kinda question is that? Ya know I’m _always_ down ta do whatever ya want. This dick is at your disposal, 24/7, Dahl.”

“And what if I want your mouth instead?” she questioned.

He gave her a little grin as he met her at the doorway of her bedroom, leaning down until his lips brushed hers.

“Mmm… That too…” he purred just before his lips met hers for a sizzling kiss that had her whimpering for more.

“And your hands?” she inquired, cocking one raven-colored brow at him.

He gave her a sly little smirk, waggling his dark brows at her, and informed her, “Those too.”

His large hands filled themselves with her ample ass cheeks even as his long, slender fingers squeezed and kneaded at her over the denim of her jeans.

“And what if I want the _whole_ Wick?” she asked him.

He gave her a shit-eating grin even as a mischievous glint filled his dark hazel eyes and he answered, “Then my greedy little lover can have it _all_…”

She gave a crooked little grin at that and fisted her hand in the front of his plain, black t-shirt, tugging him to her and leaning up to crush her mouth to his. She wasn’t disappointed either. One of his hands came up to cup the back of her head, holding her in place while his tongue delved into her mouth and explored every little nook and cranny. His tongue fought hers for dominance but she won. She voiced her triumph with a little moan, smirking against his lips, and his other arm came down to find its way underneath her ass, hoisting her up onto his hips and carrying her into her bedroom. He turned, closing the door and pressing her up against it. Her long, slender legs wrapped tight around his slender waist, one of her hands finding its way into his hair. Her fingers fisted the spiked, jet-black locks.

She captured his tongue between her lips and sucked greedily at it, knowing that it always drove him crazy. He spilled a groan into her mouth, the deep, throaty sound making her thighs tighten around him as her pussy clenched with desire. She tightened her arms around his neck and her hand fisted a little tighter in his hair. He gave a slight grunt as he rocked his hips up into hers, and she moaned her approval, her hips rolling down to meet his. He found a steady rhythm, grinding himself against her, and she nipped at his bottom lip as she eased back from the kiss.

He gave a quick, hard buck of his hips and she threw her head back against the door with a _thunk_, moaning as her hips ground towards his. She glanced over at Chaz, finding him leaning against her dresser, one dark brow cocked as he watched with his muscular, tattooed arms crossed over his broad chest. She gave a little smirk and her hands found their way down to Wick’s ass over his jeans. She gave him a firm, two-handed squeeze and he voiced a little growl into her ear, rocking his hips against her again.

“I think Chaz here needs a lesson on how ta respect women,” Dahlia informed Wick.

Wick’s head whipped around, his dark hazel eyes narrowing, and he demanded, “The fuck ya do ta our girl?”

Chaz opened his mouth to speak but Dahlia beat him to it, answering, “He acted like he was gonna drop me. And you _know_ I’m scared ta death of fallin’. And, when I told him if he dropped me he wouldn’t get any favors from me for a fuckin’ month, he proceeded ta tell me that I was as horny as a damn bitch in heat and that I couldn’t even go a _day_ without one of you gettin’ me off, let alone a whole month.”

Wick sighed and told Chaz, “Well ya know ya shouldn’t act like you’re gonna drop her. She hates that shit. And she _can_ kinda use her body against us. You and I _both_ know that.”

Then he turned his head back to look at Dahlia again and stated, “But he’s kinda right, Dahl. You couldn’t last long without one of us gettin’ ya off and ya know it.”

She gasped, her green eyes growing real wide before they narrowed in anger.

“Put me down,” she instructed firmly.

She let her legs fall from around his waist so that only his arm was holding her up on his hips.

“Now, Dahlia –,” Wick started.

“Put… me… _down_,” she repeated, emphasizing each word this time.

He slowly lowered her to the floor and she stepped away from him. She went to go sit on her bed, the black and maroon colored bedspread dipping a little as she took a seat.

She pointed at first Chaz and then Wick before commenting, “Fine. If you both seem ta think that I’m just some damn bitch in heat and that I can’t last without either one of you getting me off, then I guess I’ll just take care of it myself. I don’t need a fuckin’ man ta make me cum. And I _sure_ as shit don’t need ta help either one of you get your damn rocks off if that’s all you think of me.”

“Now, Dahlia, I didn’t mean it like –,” Wick tried to tell her.

“No. You said it,” she insisted.

She knew they were both right. She couldn’t last long without either one of them or _both_ of them bringing her to a climax. There was no denying that. But she had her pride too, just like any man did. And it had been wounded today. By _both_ of the men she loved. Now she had a point to make. And she’d be _damned_ if she didn’t make them suffer a bit while she was at it. Sure, she’d probably cave by the end of the night and invite one or both of them into her bed for the night. She never liked to go to bed mad at either of them and she _sure_ as hell didn’t like to sleep alone. But she had an idea that _just_ might make them cave first.

She reached for the hem of her shirt and tugged it up and over her head, tossing it to the floor.

“_Dahlia_…” Chaz said, his tone full of warning, as his jaw clenched.

She knew she was playing dirty, that she wasn’t fighting fair. And she knew that _he_ knew she could win if she played her cards right.

She reached behind her for the clasps of her bra, working them open and sliding the straps of the black, lacy garment down her arms. She let it fall to the floor and scooted back on the bed, lying back to rest her head on the pillows as she let her eyes drift shut.

“Mmm…” she sighed, “This is a comfy spot.”

She brought her hands up to rest them over her slender stomach, slowly working them on up to her ribs, which were just _barely_ visible under her skin if she moved this way or that, and on up to her breasts. Her hands kneaded and squeezed at the soft flesh there. She was a 28C, not the biggest but not too small either. The boys never complained. In fact, they quite liked her body, every detail of it, which never ceased to surprise and amaze her. Her fingers found her nipples, squeezing and tugging until they were taut, puckered little peaks on the soft mounds of her breasts.

Once she was satisfied that they were tauntingly aroused enough, she let her long, dark, thick lashes flutter open to reveal both of the boys watching her, Chaz still leaning against her dresser and Wick resting against the wall. She slid her hands back down over her ribs and her stomach to find the button of her jeans. She worked her belt open before popping the button on her jeans and slowly working the zipper down, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip as her eyes met first Chaz’s and then Wick’s. She worked her jeans down her long legs, legs that were slender but toned with muscle, and let them fall to the floor.

Dahlia spread her thighs wide, giving them a glimpse at the black lace boy shorts that matched the bra that was already on the floor. She worked a couple fingertips up over the material, nibbling at her lower lip as she worked her fingers up and down over the length of her slit over the lace.

“_Dahlia_…” Wick ground out of tightly clenched teeth, his nostrils flaring in desire even as his dark hazel eyes trained on the motions of her fingers, watching her every move as his eyes grew darker and darker

A wicked little grin curled her full, slightly-pouty lips. She knew that she was getting to them.

“You’re right,” she said, “Fuck this. I think it’d be _much_ better without these damn things in the way.”

She slid her thumbs under the straps and started to slide them down her long legs. She gave the panties a kick once they were down to one foot and both of the boys reached for them as they flew towards them. She giggled as she watched Wick catch them and Chaz turn to face him, both of them growling at each other.

“Give ‘em here,” Chaz demanded, holding his hand out as he waited for Wick to hand them over.

“Fuck you, man. I caught ‘em,” Wick snapped, tightening his grip on the lacy garment

He brought the panties up to his face, taking a deep whiff of them and giving a wolfish grin at his best friend.

“Ya dirty little fucker! Hand ‘em over! You got your fuckin’ turn,” Chaz growled.

“Fuck you!” Wick spat, “Finders keepers.”

He went to tuck her panties into his back pocket and Chaz tried to reach around him.

“You son of a bitch!” Chaz snarled.

“You’re just pissed ‘cause you didn’t catch ‘em yourself,” Wick retorted.

They _both_ knew it was true and a little snarl ripped from Chaz’s throat as he reached for the panties again. Dahlia knew she had to step in before it led to an all-out brawl. Over her worn panties for fuck’s sake!

“Boys, boys, boys!” Dahlia chided, drawing their attention to her again as their heads snapped around to look at her, “You keep arguin’ like a buncha fuckin’ punks and you’ll miss the show.”

She slowly ran her hand down her stomach, spreading her thighs wide for them to see. She bit her lower lip, a low, throaty purr rumbling up from her throat as she worked a couple fingertips over her clit. Her thighs trembled slightly and her hips jerked towards her hand. She’d always been a little more sensitive than other women, a fact that her boys _certainly_ loved. They never had to wonder if they were pleasing her because her body reacted shamelessly. She boldly voiced her praise and she never hesitated to make requests. Hell she’d even taken to bargaining with the boys to get what she wanted.

She swirled her fingertips over the sensitive little nub in a few more circles before bringing her fingers down to her slit, slowly sliding them up and down the length of it, from bottom to top and back again. She poised a single finger right at her entrance and gave the boys a seductive little smirk, biting at the corner of her lower lip.

“Dahlia, ya don’t hafta –,” Chaz started to say.

“Oh but I do,” she insisted, “I’m just a horny little bitch, remember? I’m as horny as a bitch in heat.”

She slowly worked her finger inside, sliding it in clear down to the bottom knuckle, until her palm was pressing against her heated flesh. She moaned as her eyes drifted shut, her head tipping back on the bed as her short, dark curls splayed out across the pillows.

Dahlia eased her finger out, only to slide it back in again, rocking her hips to meet her hand this time.

“Mmmmm…” she purred.

She added a second finger and curled them, stroking that rough, spongy patch along her upper wall that made her toes curl and her back arch. Her hips stuttered and a short, sharp moan of pleasure spilled from her lips.

She stroked and teased, working her fingers in and out of her pussy until she grew wet enough that her body began to make rude little noises with every thrust of her fingers. She bit her bottom lip and gazed at first Chaz and then Wick. She was just starting to wonder how long it was going to take them to crack when the first one caved.

“Man, _fuck_ this!” she heard Wick cry, drawing her attention over to him as he reached for the hem of his shirt, “This is _your_ fight, Chaz, _not_ mine.”

Wick tugged his plain black t-shirt up and over his head before tossing it to the floor.

“Fuckin’ traitor!” Chaz spat, “That shit’s mutiny right there, man. I’ll remember that.”

“Ask me if I give a fuck,” was Wick’s response as he toed out of his black and white, high top Converse and reached for his black belt with silver studs all the way around it.

He unbuckled it and bent over to tug off his socks.

“Mmmmm…” Dahlia purred, “That’s it, baby. Take it off. Come a little closer.”

She lifted her unoccupied hand to crook a finger at him, grinning from ear to ear as he followed her instructions, popping the button on his jeans even as he headed towards the bed. Unlike Chaz, he preferred his jeans a little snugger. Today, he was wearing a black pair of jeans with rips in both knees.

The boys had their similarities but they also had their differences. While both of them were toned with muscle, Chaz had a broader frame and was slightly taller. While neither of the boys had a defined 6-pack of washboard abs, they still had slim waists and narrow hips, their torsos forming an alluring V-shape. And both of the boys had multiple tattoos. Something she’d never confess to the boys was that Wick was slightly thicker than Chaz in the cock department, even though Chaz was just slightly longer. Both boys had a small gauge in both of their ears and, while Chaz had his lip pierced, Wick had his left nostril pierced, usually sporting a tiny little diamond stud or a thin, silver hoop through the little hole.

While Chaz had short, jet-black hair, Wick had spiked, jet-black hair. Wick’s eyes were a dark hazel that often looked brown instead of hazel unless he was in certain lighting or you looked really close. Wick had long sideburns that were usually hidden by his hair since he always kept it in a messily-spiked disarray. His cheeks were slender, angular, and his cheek bones were set slightly higher up on his face than those of the average man. In fact, his features were almost delicate. And his lips weren’t quite thin but they weren’t quite full either. His jawline was firm and he kept a short, trimmed beard on his rounded chin. Wick was just slightly leaner than Chaz and he was just a few inches shorter than Chaz too, standing at 5’10” while Chaz was around 6’1”. Wick’s pecs were a bit larger though, big enough and firm enough that Dahlia could grasp them with her hands for support. Wick had a slightly darker complexion too. It had always been easier for him to tan than the rest of the boys that they ran with back in L.A.

As far as his tattoos went, Wick had a set of intricate, black, tribal wings that spanned the width of his broad back and shoulders and a black rose on his left hip, along with a string of roses and thorns that trailed down his left arm and thick, black, tribal flames that stretched down his right arm. He even had a deadly looking viper that spanned the length of his calf muscle on his right leg, from just below the bend of his knee down to the bend between his leg and his foot.

As Dahlia watched, Wick shucked his jeans, revealing the fact that he hadn’t worn anything underneath of them that day. She grinned at that, finding that his cock was already semi-hard.

“Mmmmm…. Bring that over here, baby,” Dahlia told him, giving a little backwards jerk of her head.

He was quick to climb onto the bed and crawl over towards her. She loved that, the fact that he followed her every order without hesitation, without question. It’s why he’d been her third in command back in L.A. Chaz had been her right hand man, her second in command. While both Wick _and_ Chaz were natural born leaders, Wick tended to do what she asked without questioning her. Chaz looked at the bigger picture, the long-term effects, not just what would happen for the next couple of days. He kept the group as a whole in mind instead of just himself, a quality that was necessary for _any_ gang leader to have in order to become successful and to _stay_ successful. Wick was fine with enforcing the rules and he was one _hell_ of a smooth-talking son of a bitch. He could weasel his way out of almost anything. He was the best damn salesmen they’d had. But Chaz was better at the business end when it came to running the gang. Dahlia had been one of the only female gang leaders in the big city of Los Angeles and there was _no_ denying that it was one hell of a tough game, downright _brutal_ at times. So she’d needed the two toughest men in the gang for her second and third in command. They’d each had their own responsibilities, just like she had, and they’d reported to her. The ongoing joke had always been that they were _her_ bitches instead of her being theirs. And, because of them, the Black Rose Rebellion had risen to become one of the most notorious gangs in all of Los Angeles County.

Dahlia grinned up at Wick as he crawled towards her, coming to sit back on his heels off to her right side a bit, just below her foot. He was far enough away that he could watch her every move but close enough that he could reach out and touch her if she allowed him to. And she knew that that’s what his current placement was meant to signify to her. _She_ was the one calling the shots, and _both_ of the boys knew it.

Both of the boys teased each other on occasion, saying that the other one was pussy whipped. But _both_ of them knew that it was true, that the greatest form of punishment Dahlia could deal out was refusing to please them, to give them some sort of sexual attention. The silent treatment made them restless but the “no sex” rule was what _really_ got them groveling and damn near _begging_ her for forgiveness. She wasn’t stupid. She knew that she was their greatest weakness and she knew _just_ how to work things to her advantage. And the boys knew that.

Dahlia slowly eased her fingers out of her pussy and held her hand out towards Wick in a silent offering. He was quick to reach out and wrap his hand around her wrist even as he leaned down, slipping first one of her fingers into his mouth and then the other. His warm, wet tongue glided over her fingers, first one and then the other, as he sucked greedily and then licked and lapped at them, making sure to lap up _every_ drop of the sweet cream her body had spilled for her boys. He watched her with those dark hazel eyes heavy-lidded with pleasure. He groaned, a deep, throaty sound, before slowly easing her hand away from his mouth and letting her fingers slide out from between his lips. Chaz growled, narrowing his eyes at them, clearly displaying that he wasn’t fucking happy about it.

She bit her bottom lip and asked Wick, “You want a taste, baby?”

He gave a low growl and his eyes grew even darker at just the _thought_ of getting to bury his face between her thighs and lap her up.

“Well… If you do somethin’ for me, I’ll letcha eat my pussy, Wickie,” she purred, “I’m still not quite ready ta forgive ya yet.”

He pouted at that and asked, “Whaddya want me ta do?”

“Who’s the horny one now?” she questioned.

“I am,” he answered without hesitation, “_God_ I fuckin’ want it.”

She smiled at him and praised, “_That’s_ right. I want you ta take one of those big hands and wrap it around your cock, baby…”

She waited, watching as he reached right down to do as she’d told him. She watched as he wrapped one big hand and those long, slender fingers around the thick girth of his semi-hard dick.

She bit her bottom lip and nodded, voicing her approval with a low purr.

“_That’s_ it. _Good_ boy,” she reassured him, “Now slide it up and down, nice and slow.”

Again, she watched as he followed her orders, working his fist up and down the thick length of his dick.

She nibbled at her lower lip as her eyes followed the motions of his hand.

She’d give the boys one thing. They certainly exceeded the 5 inches the average man was given to work with. They’d been gifted. That was for sure. Wick was a good 7 1/2 inches and Chaz was probably just over 8. Both were thick but Wick was slightly thicker while Chaz was slightly longer. She had the best of both worlds when it came to her boys. And she had access to them _any_ time she wanted them. Hell the boys were just as fucking horny as she was and they _sure_ as hell couldn’t deny it.

“Mmmmm…” she sighed, “That’s it, baby… Just like that… You know it makes me _so_ fuckin’ wet when I watch you fuck yourself for me…”

“Yeah?” he asked her, “Ya like watchin’, Dahl? Ya like knowin’ that you’re makin’ me hard? Ya keep starin’ like that and he’s _really_ gonna perk up.”

She grinned up at him and reached out to take his free hand, guiding it down between her thighs.

“Feel that?” she questioned, “See how wet you made me?”

He gave a low growl as his fingertips slipped and slid over her slick entrance. He slowly eased a couple inside and she whined, tipping her head back as her hips rocked up to meet his hand, encouraging his touch and sliding both of his fingers in clear down to the bottom knuckle. His hand met her mound and he curled his fingers, toying with that sweet spot that was along her upper walls, his fingertips rubbing at the rough, spongy patch that was buried deep inside of her. She gave a little cry of pleasure and her hips stuttered, jerking slightly a couple times.

He smirked down at her and she crooked her finger at him, motioning for him to come closer before patting the bed beside her. He eased his hand away from her and moved further up the bed, going to sit back on his heels again once he’d reached the spot beside her right side. He brought his fingers up to his mouth, sucking and licking them clean even as his other hand resumed its previous motions on his cock. She reached out to gently cup his balls in her hand, massaging them with her palm and fingers and dealing out gentle squeezes on occasion.

He grunted at the contact, his hips bucking towards her hand, and groaned, “_Fuck_, Dahlia!”

She _loved_ it when her name spilled from her boys’ lips. It always made her feel like some sort of sexual goddess. She gave him a wicked little grin and pushed herself up into a seated position before turning to face him and getting up onto all fours.

“Gimme that,” she informed him, “I changed my mind.”

She leaned down, her green eyes never leaving his dark hazel ones. He peered down at her with heavy-lidded eyes, watching her every move from under those long, dark, thick lashes. His eyes were nearly as dark as onyx as she parted her full, sensual lips and took just the head of his cock into her mouth. She moaned as the salty taste of his skin greeted her taste buds. She gently let her teeth rake against him, along that ridge that separated the head from the shaft, and he gave a rough growl. She lowered her head again and began to bob it, working her mouth up and down on his shaft. She knew that he was almost at full-length now and it wouldn’t take much teasing to have him standing at full attention.

She knew that he’d be watching her lips. Hell even seeing her sucking on a straw got him hard, regardless of whether or not they were in public. Watching her nibble at her bottom lip or bite it drew his attention to her lips. He and Chaz _both_ had a thing for a woman’s lips and Dahlia’s were full and slightly pouty, sensual and seductive. She knew that Wick loved to see her hair pulled back while she gave him head, allowing him to watch her mouth and her face, while Chaz liked it better when she left her hair down, letting it brush against his thighs. Chaz was more about the sensations he got while she sucked him off and Wick was more about the visual stimulation, though men in general were very visual creatures. _Both_ of her boys were easily stimulated by just _seeing _her or _watching_ her but Wick really liked to watch her cheeks hollow and fill, to watch her lips wrapped around his dick while she bobbed her head for him. He was easier to rile with just visual cues than Chaz was. Then again, Chaz was a man that had pretty impressive self-control.

Almost as if he could hear her thoughts, Wick spoke up, cracking a joke even though he was slightly breathless.

“Mmm… It’s like fuckin’ magic, Dahl,” he chuckled lightly, “It just keeps fuckin’ disappearin’.”

One of his hands came up to sift his fingers through her jet-black curls, holding her in place as she sucked and purred around his length. He gave a slight shudder at the sensation of her mouth vibrating around his cock, sending vibrations straight to his fucking core, and his hips ground towards her mouth. She moaned to encourage him and he rocked his hips again.

“Fuck! Ughhhhn!” he groaned, rocking his hips and tipping his head back a bit as his eyes closed.

She let him find a rhythm that suited him, allowing him to guide her head and thrust his hips even as she worked her mouth on him, essentially letting him fuck her mouth. This lasted for a few minutes until she felt that his cock was hard enough to start the _real_ fun for him.

He lowered his head to watch her again and she waited until he’d made eye contact with her before she made her next move.

Dahlia glanced up at him and winked, taking a deep breath in through her nose and relaxing the muscles in her throat. She swallowed, sending his cock to the back of her throat, and he gave a guttural groan. She eased her mouth back just in time for him to give a sharp thrust into her mouth.

“Fuck! That’s it, baby! Fuckin’ take it!” he grunted.

She moaned and repeated the process a few more times. He reached out, fisting all 10 of those long, slender fingers in her hair. He grunted and groaned, the sexiest fucking noises spilling from his lips as he watched her work her mouth on him.

“Mmm! Yeah! _Ugggghn!_” he growled, letting his eyes drift shut again as she eased her head back to begin bobbing it up and down on his length again, sucking and moaning around his shaft.

It was only then that she felt it, a big hand press flat against the small of her back and slowly slide up the length of her back. So lost had she been in her task of sucking Wick off that she hadn’t even heard Chaz walk over to the foot of the bed and around to the other side to approach her.

She eased her mouth back and Wick’s eyes snapped open.

“What the fu–,” he started to ask as she peered up at him and interrupted him to say, “Just a second, baby. Then I’ll get _right_ back ta what I was doin’.”

She turned her head to look over her shoulder, finding that Chaz was naked and standing on his knees behind her.

“I’m still pissed at you,” she informed him.

He leaned down to press a trail of hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses down her spine. He started up at the nape of her neck, slowly making his way down until he reached her ass, where he gently sank his teeth into her right ass cheek. She moaned and her back arched.

He eased his mouth back to nip at her other cheek and then straightened again, rubbing a big hand over her ass to ease the sting as he squeezed and gently kneaded at her ample ass cheek.

“Then let me make it up to ya,” he tried to bargain with her.

She narrowed her green eyes at him and he brought his hand back to land a sharp _smack_ on her ass. She bit her bottom lip even as a moan slipped out and her back arched again, encouraging his touch.

“Ya can’t tell me ya don’t enjoy it, Dahl,” Chaz told her.

“Never said I didn’t,” she countered, “But you were an ass today and I didn’t like it.”

“Oh _believe_ me, I know,” he replied, “Ya proved that by suckin’ Wick’s dick and makin’ me fuckin’ watch. Ya think I liked havin’ ta just sit there and watch ya fuck yourself? Watchin’ ya suck him off while I had ta go without? That shit’s just not fair. That’s cruel and unusual punishment, Dahlia.”

“And what if I don’t wanna fuck you?” she inquired.

A pout curled his lips. It was the most adorable damn puppy dog expression she’d ever seen. _Damn_ him and those lips! If it wasn’t that adorable, dimpled grin he gave, then it was the heart-breaking pout that always wore away at her resolve.

“You put that bottom lip away or I’ll _bite_ it,” she warned, narrowing her green eyes at him.

He just gave her a grin and a slight backward nod of his head, taunting, “Prove it.”

“I think I liked you better when you were groveling,” she stated before resting her ass on her heels and hunching back over Wick again, who was whimpering and trying to ease her head towards his dick again.

She glanced up at Wick and apologized, “I know, baby. I know. I’m sorry.”

But Chaz wasn’t one to give up. She felt his large hands come up to slide around her sides and up her stomach to grasp her breasts in his palms and start kneading and squeezing at them with his long, thick fingers as she began to bob her head up and down on Wick’s dick. Chaz had _always_ been a persistent one, something that had often paid off in great ways in the past, whether it was something related to the gang or different favors they’d traded in terms of their sex life.

His fingers found her nipples, squeezing and tugging gently. He’d always had “magic fingers” as she’d called them. He usually had a gentle touch, tender and affectionate. He always took his time with her, unless they absolutely _had_ to make it quick, and it was almost as if he was _worshipping_ her body when he touched her, when he kissed her. Chaz was the one who made love to her. Wick fucked her. While Wick was a very passionate lover and could even be sensual when he wanted to, he was the kinkier of the two, the dirtier one. Wick was well-known for his sexual skills. Hell he could’ve made a nun drop her fucking panties! But Chaz… Chaz was the man that brought the emotional aspect into the game. Sex wasn’t just a physical act for him. It was soul deep and earth-shattering. Sure. Both men could make her lose control. There was no question about that. But Chaz knew her body, knew her inside _and_ out better than anyone, as he should after 5 years’ worth of dating her and fucking around with her. He always seemed to know just what she needed and when to give it to her, just what to say and where to touch, how to stroke here or give a love bite there. It was _so_ much more than sex with Chaz. And, while she loved Wick dearly, Chaz had had her heart first and he’d gotten one hell of a head start.

Chaz slowly slid his hands down her stomach and found her thighs, gently pushing at them. His big hands kneaded and squeezed her soft flesh as his mouth worked up along her spine. That warm, wet tongue stroked here and lapped there, his hot breath fanning over her sensitive skin. A shudder ripped down her spine and she felt his full, sensual lips curl up into a sly little grin.

“Come on, baby, open up,” he murmured, his voice soft and smooth as that deep rumble sounded from behind her, “Ya know I didn’t mean what I said as an insult. You know Wick and I would _never_ turn ya down. Ya know we’re always just as eager as you are. If your sex drive wasn’t so fuckin’ high, we’d never be able ta make this thing work. I don’t know any other woman that could handle 2 men. _Especially_ not for 2 fuckin’ _years_.”

She didn’t budge, other than her mouth sliding up and down on Wick’s cock, sucking and eliciting the occasional groan from him.

“Don’t stop, baby…” Wick groaned through tightly clenched teeth, “Don’t you fuckin’ stop…”

She squeezed gently at Wick’s ass cheeks, to reassure him, digging her fingers in a little and reveling in the growl that rumbled up from deep within his chest.

“Come on, Dahl…” Chaz prompted from behind her, his lips working their way up over her shoulder blade and on up to gently sink his teeth into her shoulder.

She voiced a low moan of approval around Wick’s cock and Wick’s fingers tightened on her hair.

“_Ugggghn!_” Wick groaned, rocking his hips a little faster towards her greedy mouth.

“Part those pretty thighs for me…” Chaz purred, “Let me stroke that wet pussy… If ya don’t want me ta fuck it with my dick, then at least let me fuck it with my fingers… Let me getcha off, baby… Let me take care of my girl.”

She slowly let her thighs part for him, pushing herself up to stand on her knees and letting her hands find Wick’s hips to ease him down so that he was resting back on his heels. She spread her thighs a bit further and reached back with one hand to find one of Chaz’s hands and bring it down between her thighs.

“You want me ta fuck ya with my fingers, Dahl?” Chaz inquired.

“Mmmhmm…” she purred around Wick, coaxing a low groan out of both of the boys, one of pleasure from Wick and one of triumph from Chaz.

She felt those long, thick, skilled fingers sliding lower, swirling over that swollen bundle of nerves, and she whined around Wick. A low growl rumbled up from deep within Wick’s chest and she felt his thighs begin to shake even as she brought her hands down squeeze at them, knowing that he loved it when she sank her fingers in and gave him a firm squeeze. Her own thighs trembled slightly at Chaz’s administrations. Chaz eased his hand further south and she whimpered, grinding herself towards his hand and hinting to him to get on with it.

“_Easy_, baby…” Chaz crooned, his voice a low, soothing murmur.

She sucked greedily at Wick and he tipped his head back, letting loose a deep, guttural groan as he started to guide her head faster, giving sharp bucks of his hips as he neared his release.

“Fuck! Dahl…” Wick warned, a shudder rippling up his spine.

She moaned around him, feeling Chaz start to work those fingers up and down the length of her slick slit, her juices coating his fingers. She felt Wick’s cock swelling and pulsing in her mouth, his thighs shaking under her hands as she dug her fingers into his skin, just before he came with a loud, strangled groan. He spilled himself inside of her mouth, his hips bucking sharply as he filled her mouth with spurt after spurt of the hot, wet, sticky mess. She swallowed greedily until he was finished. He fell back onto the bed, gasping, and she got up onto all fours, leaning over him to suck and lick him clean.

He peered down at her, watching her as he panted. He winced slightly, still sensitive, and she pressed a loving kiss to the head of his cock before easing her head back. His fingers gently massaged at her scalp as he gave her a lazy grin.

“Just fuck him and get it over with, Dahl…” Wick panted, “Ya fuckin’ deserve it after that… _Damn!_”

She giggled at that and he released his grip on her hair, carefully untangling his fingers from her jet-black curls. She reached down to ease Chaz’s hand from between her thighs.

“Whatcha want, baby girl?” Chaz asked her.

She scooted back until she had her knees resting on either side of his firm thighs. She reached between them and found his cock, wrapping her hand around it and guiding it to her entrance. Chaz was quick to take the hint and his large hands came up to rest over her hips as he slowly guided her down onto his long, hard, thick dick. She tipped her head back, voicing a loud moan even as he gave a throaty groan himself as he eased her down onto him, inch by throbbing inch. Her pussy clenched around his length a couple times, her body reveling in the sensation of being filled, and he emitted a noise that was somewhere between a groan and a whine, resting his forehead against her shoulder blade. He didn’t stop until she’d taken all of him, his cock seated deeply inside of her and her mound pressing against his pelvis.

Dahlia tipped her head back, resting her hands on his thighs, and just let Chaz guide her motions. Usually she was just as active of a participant as the boys were but she figured she’d let Chaz take control this time. She’d let him make it up to her. And she’d enjoy _every_ fucking second of it.

She felt his big hands guiding her, tugging her down onto his dick and then slowly easing her back up again. She moaned, her fingers digging deeper into his skin and her back arching even as she tilted her head back further, her eyes drifting shut in pleasure.

He leaned in closer, his hot breath fanning over her neck as he murmured to her, his voice as soft as silk as the deep rumble greeted her ears, “That fuckin’ good, sweetheart? Ya like that?”

“Oh _yes!_” she answered, tilting her head to the opposite side as he began trailing hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses down her neck.

She gasped as he gently sank his teeth into the skin that covered the spot where her neck met her shoulder before a throaty moan bubbled up from her throat. She reached behind her with one hand, fisting her fingers in his short, jet-black hair.

“Move your knees, Dahl,” he instructed, “Line ‘em up with mine. Rest your hands flat on the bed. I’ll be able ta slide deeper inside.”

She didn’t have to be told twice. She was quick to adopt the suggested position and she tipped her head back, moaning in pleasure as his cock not only slid deeper inside of her but also slid in at a new angle. He angled their hips just right and she voiced a short, sharp cry of pleasure, her hips stuttering, as the broad head of his cock prodded at that rough, spongy patch of tissue inside of her.

“Yeah…” he purred, “Bet that’s better, isn’t it, Dahl?”

She gave a jerky nod, replying, “Oh _yes!_ Again, baby! Do it again!”

He chuckled at that and she lowered her head again, letting her eyes flutter open to find Wick watching her, a sly little smirk on his handsome face. He winked at her and pushed himself up into a seated position. He crawled over towards her and leaned down, sucking one of her nipples between his lips to suckle at her greedily. He found her other breast with one large palm, cupping and squeezing at her. His fingers toyed with her nipple, tugging and pinching. She bit her bottom lip even as a moan bubbled up from her throat and she felt that tension building inside of her. She brought one hand up to spear her fingers through Wick’s hair, her other hand remaining firmly planted on the bed, her fingers digging in to get a good grip to support herself.

“Oh! Fuck!” she cursed, “Chaz, baby, I’m gettin’ close.”

Wick reached down with one hand, finding that little powerhouse of nerves that was nestled between her folds and swirling two fingertips over it. She issued a sharp whine and her thighs began to tremble. He released her nipple just long enough to capture its mate between his lips and suck greedily at it while he toyed with her clit, rubbing circles over it. His free hand found her unclaimed breast, not wanting to leave it feeling left out. Her skin started to grow hot as the sex flush crept up her body and her pussy began to clench in anticipation, fluttering slightly around Chaz’s cock. She panted, her gasps turning into whimpers and her moans of pleasure becoming needy whines.

“_That’s_ it, baby girl…” Chaz praised, “Come on…”

She bit her bottom lip, a whimper slipping out, and he quickened his pace just slightly, rocking her on him a little harder, a little faster.

She tossed her head back, both hands fisting the comforter tight, and voiced an “_Aaah!_” of pleasure as she felt that climax rush up on her, her body shuddering and spasming as Chaz’s hands gripped her hips tighter and he thrust up into her even harder. Her thighs shook, her pussy convulsing around his cock and her eyes drifting shut as the pleasure racked her body. She whined and whimpered as he drew her orgasm out longer with each thrust, until he came inside of her with a loud, guttural groan growled out right into the side of her neck. His cock pulsed as he released spurt after spurt of the hot, wet substance inside of her. Her arms gave out, unable to hold her up any longer, and she sent poor Wick tumbling back onto the bed, her face landing against his thigh. Her ass was up in the air, Chaz’s dick still inside of her pussy as their juices dripped down his cock. Her legs were still spread on either side of his thighs. But none of them cared. They were all sated, all exhausted. She gave a purr of contentment and grinned as wide as the Cheshire cat as she let her eyes drift shut.

“Mmmmm… Nap time,” she announced in a lazy little purr, “Then we’ll go to the bar and grab some grub.”

** _~*Ziva*~_ **

** **

Ziva Chevenandrova groaned as she started regaining consciousness. She had no idea what had happened to knock her out, which was no surprise. All her psychology classes had taught her that a person often had very brief retrograde amnesia when waking up from a concussion, making the idea that someone could tell you what had happened right before their accident downright laughable.

All she knew was that the blissful darkness was receding and pain was taking its place. There was a very persistent pounding in her head, a dryness in her mouth. She swallowed and tried to reach up to rub at her aching temple. But she couldn’t move her arm. That was strange.

“Mornin’, _sunshine_,” a soft, undeniably male voice sneered sarcastically from somewhere behind her.

She didn’t recognize that voice. She’d never heard it before.

Her hazel eyes snapped open as the realization flooded over her and she took in her surroundings. She studied every detail, wanting to memorize her surroundings. Her eyes roamed over the rough walls made of rock, the hard floor beneath her feet that was made of the same kind of tan-colored rock, the ceiling over her head that was so high above her. She was in a cave, a _fucking_ cave.

Her eyes landed on a shelving unit that was pushed up against one wall of the cave. It was lined with bottles of lye, paint thinner, starter fluid, anhydrous ammonia, iodine, distilled water, packs of batteries, rock salt, rubbing alcohol, gasoline, antifreeze, Drano, brake fluid, lighter fluid, boxes of Sudafed, and packs of matches. She saw a table that had some of the same ingredients scattered around it and a few containers holding something that was almost black in color and was starting to crystalize. There were coffee filters and pop bottles set up on the table, along with a hot plate of some sort to heat said ingredients. Great. Just fucking _great!_ She was in a goddamn meth lair!

She’d wanted to get away from her shitty little hometown, to run from her tainted past. She’d intended to go somewhere memorable for a nice little vacation. She’d been seeking excitement and adventure. That’s why she’d been heading for L.A. But she _sure_ as hell hadn’t planned to wind up being held hostage in a fucking _meth_ lab in a goddamn _cave!_ While it might count as “memorable” she doubted it’d be exciting or adventurous, unless it involved her escape.

She heard heavy footsteps approaching her from behind, her ears picking up the sound even as the hairs on the back of her neck and her arms stood on end. Her hands fisted around the ends of the cheap lawn chair she was tied to, her wrists bound by rope to the arms of the chair and her ankles tied to the front two legs of the chair.

She turned her head, watching as the man walked around the chair and came to stand in front of her, peering down at her. He probably stood at around 5’10” and was built with broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and long legs. He was wearing a set of navy coveralls and black work boots. He’d been stupid enough to let her see his face so she took the time to memorize every detail, taking in the firm line of his jaw, the slender slope of his cheeks, the crystal blue color of his eyes, his slender nose, his thin lips that were framed by facial hair. He had a small, trimmed beard that matched the color of his mustache, his goatee, and his shaggy, brown hair. And there was a mole next to the corner of the left side of his mouth. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and she could see that his skin was deeply tanned. She was just _sure_ that he had a muscular frame underneath those baggy coveralls. The thing she hated most about the man was the fact that he was actually very attractive. Hell he was probably the hottest man she’d ever seen! She’d always been attracted to the men that were nothing but trouble. Like she always said, she didn’t know if she was just a loser magnet or if _she_ was the loser.

“What the fuck do you _want_ from me?” Ziva asked him, narrowing her hazel eyes at him.

She wanted to see what his game was. She wanted to see just how far she could push him, just how much of her shit he would tolerate. She wanted to see what he was capable of. She’d been quick to find out as a little girl that you learned more about a person when they were pissed off than you did when they were in a good mood. _Anyone_ could fake happiness but it took some _serious_ self-control to restrain one’s temper.

He gave a sick smirk, purring, “Ooo… Ya got a mouth on ya. I _like_ that.”

Her whole face scrunched up in disgust, her lips pulling back from her teeth to show her disapproval of his comment. She’d known his kind before. He probably thought he was God’s great gift to women. He was real cocky, _real_ sure of himself and his skills when it came to the ladies. He was crude, no doubt, and he’d surely taunt her while he kept her captive there in his stupid cave. What he _didn’t_ know about her was that that would only turn her on.

He sneered down at her, stating, “Scrunch that face up all ya want, ya fuckin’ bitch. _Yer_ the one tied ta the fuckin’ chair.”

As if she needed reminding!

She narrowed her hazel eyes even further and drew as much saliva as she could into her mouth, tipping her head back slightly to spit right at him. The glob of spit landed right on his cheek. His face contorted into a mask of rage and he was quick to reach out, his big hand connecting with the side of her face as a loud _smack_ resonated off the cave walls. Her head was thrown to the side from the impact and the salty, metallic tang of blood flooded her mouth. But, rather than give into him, she just laughed, a noise that started as a soft giggle and rose to a near cackle as she turned her head to look at him.

She saw those crystal blue orbs widen in surprise as he stared down at her and she sneered up at him, licking the blood from the corner of her mouth where he’d busted her lip before she asked, “That all ya got?”

He growled in frustration and drew his hand back again, smashing his closed fist into her face this time. It connected with her jaw, the pain exploding across her face. She felt her teeth tear into the inside of her cheek upon impact and smirked up at him before spitting the blood out in front of his feet.

So he was the kind that had a really short fuse? This little hostage situation would _definitely_ get interesting.

She worked her jaw, making sure that the fucker hadn’t dislocated it, and heard the satisfying _pop_ as it readjusted. She licked her teeth then, lapping up more of the coppery, crimson liquid that spilled into her mouth. She smirked up at him and saw his eyes narrow into little slits as he glared down at her. She’d never been one to back down from a challenge and she _sure_ as shit wasn’t going to start now. She’d give him one thing though: he sure as hell knew how to throw a punch.

He wiped her spit from his face, his crystal blue orbs piercing as he sneered at her. He definitely hadn’t expected her to act like this. He’d probably done this kind of thing time and time again. He was certainly used to the women cowering and whimpering, crying and begging. But she _refused_ to give him that satisfaction. Instead, she was going to give him hell until he either released her or killed her. She was _damn_ determined now. He wouldn’t get the best of her. She’d beat him at his own damn game.

She turned her head, offering him the other side of her face and asked, “Aren’t ya gonna make ‘em match?”

He narrowed his eyes and just stared at her for a few moments.

“What’s the matter, Slugger? Your little plaything not doin’ her part?” she taunted.

“Bitch!” he snarled, stepping forward to catch her chin in a crushing grip, glaring down at her, “You’d better shut that fuckin’ mouth ‘fore I break yer goddamn jaw!”

“Go ahead,” she prompted, “Might as well make this date a little more memorable, don’t ya think?”

He sneered down at her again, his lips pulling back from his teeth to reveal the wretched set of teeth that filled his mouth. One of his front teeth was almost completely rotten, black and decayed, while the rest were just in the beginning stages of decalcifying and decaying, just the very tips of them bearing a dark color. She’d seen _much_ worse meth mouths in her day but that didn’t make her current situation any better. Not only did the fucker _cook_ meth but he also did quite a bit of the product as well. There was no denying it.

“_God!_ Your breath smells like _death!_” she told him, trying to turn her face away from him as her nose wrinkled up at the disgusting scent that wafted out of his mouth.

Those crystal orbs narrowed into little slits and he brought his mouth down to hers, crushing his lips against hers and snaking his tongue right into her open mouth. She gagged at first, her hands balling into fists as she tried to jerk her head back away from him. But his grip on her chin was just too damn tight and, as much as she _hated_ to admit it… his kiss wasn’t as gut-wrenching as she’d expected it to be.

Her captor flicked the tip of his tongue against hers before massaging at the sides of her tongue, first one and then the other, with the warm, wet muscle. He swirled his tongue around hers and then began to suck at her tongue. Underneath the initial sickening taste of the rot in his mouth, there was an underlying taste of chocolate, whiskey, and cigarettes. In fact, he tasted _delicious_.

Without thinking, she began to chase his tongue with her own, her tongue tangling with his and fighting for dominance. He won and she voiced a moan of pleasure at the fact that he’d dominated her so easily, something no other man had been able to do. She followed his tongue back into his mouth and captured it between her full, sensual lips, sucking at it greedily. He grunted in surprise, his hand fisting in her hair.

Her hands clutched at the arms of the chair as the kiss became more aggressive. She wanted to sift her fingers through his hair, to hold him close and make sure that he wouldn’t be pulling back any time soon. She _loved_ how greedy he was, how rough his tongue’s movements were, how shameless and bold he was. He didn’t hesitate to dominate her, to _demand_ her submission. That sinful tongue of his explored every little nook and cranny of her mouth, flicking and licking and thrusting. She surrendered another moan into his mouth, this one longer and huskier than the one before. There was no doubt that he’d be an insatiable lover, that he’d be very dominating and rough. Just the thought had her thighs clamping shut tight as her pussy clenched in desire, spilling some of that wet heat into her thong.

When he finally eased back from the kiss, he was panting and she took _great_ pride in that, smirking up at him. Her inner sex goddess was grinning like a monkey with a shiny new toy, preening like a parrot during mating season. Hell her ego was as high as a fucking kite.

“Yer a fuckin’ dirty bitch,” he accused.

Ziva just gave him a wicked little grin and replied, “Oh, honey, you have _no_ fuckin’ idea. I can make _every_ one of your dirty little fantasies come true.”

She winked at him and slowly ran her tongue over her top lip, from one corner of her mouth to the other. Those crystal blue orbs followed it and she noticed his hands ball into fists at his sides. He wanted more. She could tell by the way his nostrils flared and his jaw clenched. He was fighting it, holding himself back from taking what he wanted from her. It didn’t make any sense though.

If he’d smack her across the face just for spitting in his face and deck her for taunting him but refrain from making any sexual advances past kissing her, it was both bizarre and nearly inconceivable. She just couldn’t seem to figure him out. Just when she thought she was starting to analyze him correctly, he’d switched it up.

“Yer fucked up,” he stated.

Her smirk stretched even further across her face and she commented, “Takes one ta know one.”

He sneered at that and crushed his mouth to hers again to shut her the fuck up. She explored his mouth with her tongue before sucking at his and then, when he tried to ease back from the kiss, she caught his bottom lip between her teeth and gave it a sharp little nip, drawing a couple drops of blood. She sucked at it eagerly, running her tongue over it before giving it a slight little tug with her teeth. Finally, she released it and he was quick to stand up straight.

“You fuckin’ _bitch!_” he growled, his hand flying to his bottom lip, “Ya fuckin’ bit me!”

“Oh, baby, if I wanted ta bite ya, I would’ve _really_ sunk ‘em in. That was just a love bite,” she informed him, licking her lips and grinning up at him, “You drew my blood. I drew yours. Now we’re even.”

He glared down at her as he wiped the blood from his lip, muttering more to himself than to her, “Yer gonna fuckin’ pay for that shit later.”

“Want me ta kiss it all better?” she taunted.

“No!” was his immediate answer.

She pouted at that and retorted in a sarcastic tone, “Aww… Now you’re gonna go and hurt my little feelings if ya keep talkin’ like _that_.”

He glared at her and walked over towards the table, busying himself with the items that were there. He checked on the crystalizing, dark-colored matter in the containers before starting to arrange the chemicals around an empty set of containers he had arranged on the table.

“Ah, the silent treatment… Ooo! It _hurts!_” she mocked him.

He cut a glare over in her direction and she just gave him that cocky, crooked little smirk.

“I like it better when ya hate me,” she told him, “Means I don’t hafta worry about you fallin’ for me anytime soon.”

“_Not_ gonna fuckin’ happen!” he snapped, “Now shut the fuck up!”

“’Ooo… ‘Ya got a mouth on ya. I _like_ that’,” she purred, her voice low and husky as her eyes grew heavy-lidded.

The look on his face told her that he wasn’t amused by her using the quote he’d thrown her way earlier but that only made her laugh.

“I can tell you and I are gonna have _plenty_ of fun,” she said, her lips curling up into a sly little grin.

** _–=_ ** ** _Mac_ ** ** _=–_ **

** **

Macario Sanchez reached up to grab one of the white masks from the chain that was hanging from the cave’s ceiling, stuffing it over his face and making sure that it was in place properly, before grabbing a second one. He walked over to cram it over his little plaything’s face. Normally he wouldn’t give a shit whether or not his victims were protected from the toxic fumes his precious meth produced while he cooked it, but this bitch was a sick one and he had a feeling she’d enjoy it. And he couldn’t have her enjoying herself while she was his personal plaything.

He set right in on cooking up another batch. When it was done, he poured it out into the containers he’d set up for it to cool and crystalize in. He checked on the other containers, finding that they were steadily hardening. They’d be ready by the end of the night, all of them forming that beautiful, near-black block of meth that he could cut into crystals and bag up for his customers.

Over the years, Mac had experimented, crafting the perfect recipes for 3 very unique strains of his precious meth. He’d concocted a strain that he called “Bloody Mary” first, the blood red crystals quickly catching on with his customers and becoming high in demand. Upon discovering that it was quite a success, Walter had demanded that he start “fucking around” and “trying to come up with new varieties” of the drug he specialized in cooking. So Mac had.

He’d created “Blue Maui” next, a form of bright blue crystals, the color of the clear, blue waters that he’d seen in postcards with beaches on them before. And, finally, there had been “Black Velvet”, a type of meth that was such a deep, dark purple that it was almost black in color. Each of the 3 strains took their user on a different level of high. Their side effects varied just slightly. And they each brought in quite a bit of money. Black Velvet was the hardest form of the drug he’d made yet, followed by Bloody Mary, then Blue Maui, and, finally, the normal, white crystals he usually cooked up. At the moment, business was booming. He was raking in _plenty_ of cash, which made Walter a _very_ happy, greedy little bastard. And when Walter was happy, he tended to ease up on Mac a bit. So Mac was going to do everything in his power to keep business up.

When Mac was sure it was safe to take his mask off, he tugged it up over his head, letting it sit on top of his head as he went over to yank the mask off of his plaything and hang it up on the chain where it belonged. She gave him that crooked little smirk and puckered her lips at him. Those lips were so full, so damn sexy. He knew he’d love to watch his cock disappear between them while he guided her head and fucked her mouth. He bet she’d enjoy it, as shameless as she seemed.

He let his eyes rake over her body, frowning at the clothes that kept it hidden from his hungry eyes. She was wearing a plain white wife beater, a white bra underneath of it. She clearly had large tits. He was willing to bet that they were a 36DD. They were _huge_ compared to most of the women’s he’d seen. And he _liked_ big tits. Her skin was deeply-tanned and her long, naturally-wavy hair was jet-black in color. Her lips were full and pouty. That mouth of hers was just _made_ for sucking dick. Her chin was small and angled up towards her firm jawline. Her cheeks were slender and angular. Her nose was neither too slender nor too wide but it fit with the rest of her features nicely. Her thin, raven-colored brows arched above almond-shaped eyes that were framed with long, dark, thick lashes. Those eyes were a shade of hazel he’d never seen before. They were a mixture of cinnamon and light emerald, more cinnamon colored around her pupils with more green mixing into them closer to the whites of her eyes.

His eyes continued their trek down her body, finding that she had a slender stomach and wide hips. He was willing to bet that her ass was just as ample and well-rounded as her tits were too. He’d always been a tits, lips, and ass man. Of course, it didn’t help that her legs were accentuated by a pair of faded denim Daisy Dukes with holes in them either. They were slender and went on for _miles_. They were the kind that he’d _love_ to have wrapped around his waist while he pounded into her pussy.

Her body was _built_ for fucking and her personality was unlike that of any other woman he’d ever known. She was sassy and sarcastic, taunting and seductive. And he liked the feisty ones. They always fought the hardest. The ones that just cried and begged were never any fun. If they didn’t pose a challenge, he didn’t bother with them. And he had a feeling that this one would enjoy _everything_ he did to her, unlike all the other victims he’d kidnapped in the past.

“Ya like what ya see, handsome?” she asked, that low, husky voice practically purring as she asked the question.

Mac cocked his head to one side. _handsome_? Well _that_ wasn’t something he’d ever been called before.

She parted her thighs in a blatant invitation, slowly working her tongue over that full upper lip, from one corner of her mouth to the other.

“It’s been a while since I’ve had a good, hard fuck,” she informed him, her hazel eyes roaming down his body to fasten to the crotch of his coveralls.

He felt his cock twitch in response, his testosterone raising its head and eagerly volunteering to accept the challenge. But he shook his head hard. That was _exactly_ what she wanted. She _wanted_ him to fuck her. And she was _his_ little plaything, damn it, _not_ the other way around. So _he’d_ do whatever he damn well pleased with _her_.

“Yer not the one callin’ the fuckin’ shots here,” he snarled, reminding her of her current predicament.

“Who said I couldn’t play a willing submissive participant?” she questioned.

He had to swallow down a groan as it threatened to rumble up from his chest. Great! Now all he’d be able to think about was her sprawled out on the damn dirty mattress in the corner of the room there in the cave, her legs spread wide and her wet pussy clenching around him as he brutally assaulted it with his hard dick. He imagined her shouting as he pounded into her pussy again and again, grunting as he thrust harshly into her tiny little body. Hell she was probably only 5 foot flat, making her one of the shortest damn women he’d ever seen and certainly the shortest plaything he’d ever had. She had a hot little body though, even if it wasn’t petite like a lot of girls her height. Most people would’ve considered her disproportionate compared to her height but he sure as shit wouldn’t complain. She was stacked _just_ right in all the right places.

“What’s yer fuckin’ name?” he inquired.

“Ziva Chevenandrova,” she answered.

His brows rose at that. There was no way in _hell_ he’d be able to pronounce that shit! And he _sure_ as hell wouldn’t be able to spell it either. Ziva was short though, short and simple. He could handle that. It suited her. She was the sexiest little thing he’d ever seen, exotic compared to all the fucking bar whores there at the Luna Mesa or the tourists that passed through Caineville during their little vacations. Hell even the preppy little college girls hadn’t looked _this_ fucking hot. She was absolutely _stunning_.

“Don’t like it,” he lied, “We’re gonna hafta give ya a new one.”

She just laughed at that and said, “Then call me whatever the fuck ya want as long as it’s not some damn stripper name.”

“I’ll hafta get back ta ya on yer new name after I get ta know ya a bit better,” he commented.

She gave another laugh and then commented, “I get the feeling that I’m some kinda new pet or somethin’.”

She was, in a sense. She was his new little plaything, until he got bored with her. He had a feeling that it would take him _quite_ a while before he got bored with this one though. She was different. She was _special_. She didn’t cower and whimper like the other girls. She didn’t beg and bawl. She held her chin high and glared at him. Shit she fucking _laughed_ at him. The tiny thing spat just as much sarcasm and wit back at him as he dealt out to her. She was bold and sassy. She sure was a dirty little bitch who’d seemed to enjoy everything he’d dealt her so far, even though he’d just been scratching the surface of what he _could_ do to her during her captivity. And he _liked_ that.

He decided he’d have a little fun with his new toy. He reached into one of the pockets of his coveralls, easing out his tin. He popped it open and watched as those hazel eyes of hers fixed on it. She cocked one raven-colored brow at him and he dipped a finger into the powdery, red substance. He held it out towards her mouth and she turned her head away from him.

“I’ve never done drugs a fuckin’ _day_ of my life and I’m not _about_ ta start now, hostage or not,” she snapped at him, those hazel eyes glaring at him harshly.

He could’ve sworn he almost saw flames dancing in them. He shook his head at himself and tried to bring his finger close to her mouth again but she just turned her head the other way.

“Damn it!” he scolded, “Open yer fuckin’ mouth!”

She kept her lips pressed firmly together and he closed the tin before slipping it back into his pocket with his unoccupied hand. Then he reached out to catch her face in his big hand, his thick fingers squeezing her cheeks tightly to force them open.

“Don’t you fuckin’ –,” she started to snarl at him before he stuffed his finger into her mouth.

Her whole face scrunched up in disgust and she bit his finger ruthlessly in retaliation.

“Yow!” he cried, jerking his hand away from her and shaking it a bit.

Ziva shook her head hard, her face all scrunched up and her tongue hanging out as she made a “_Leck!_” noise of disgust. She gave a full body shudder and spit onto the floor, trying to rid her mouth of the bitter taste.

“I oughta fuckin’ throttle ya for that shit!” Mac growled, his crystal blue orbs narrowing as he gazed down at her.

But she was unconcerned by his threat. She was too busy shrugging one shoulder and turning her head to try to lick at her wife beater, attempting to wipe the meth off of her tongue.

“Hey!” he scolded, reaching out to rock her chair a bit to catch her attention.

She just shot him a sharp glare and resumed trying to clean her tongue again.

“Cut that shit out!” he shouted, “Just let it run its fuckin’ course. Maybe it’ll mellow ya out a bit, ya crazy fuckin’ bitch.”

She cut him another harsh glare and snapped, “Meth doesn’t ‘mellow’ a person out, ya fuckin’ idiot! It makes ‘em mean. It’s a stimulant, not a depressant! You oughta fuckin’ know that by now, judgin’ by the state of those nasty ass teeth of yours! And I’ll have you know I’m not _a_ bitch. I’m _the bitch_. And it had _best_ be in all capitals! I can be as sweet as a fuckin’ angel or worse than the Devil himself. And you’d be _smart_ ta learn that _real_ fuckin’ quick.”

His brows rose at that and she resumed trying to rub her tongue on the cotton material of her wife beater again.

Mac sighed but wiped the blood from his finger onto the leg of his coveralls. His patience with her was starting to wear _real_ fucking thin.

She groaned, shaking her head, and cursed, “Oh _fuck_ it all!”

He chuckled, thinking that maybe she was pissed because she couldn’t get the taste out of her mouth. He was starting to wonder if she’d even get a high after how much of it she’d managed to spit out or wipe onto her wife beater when he saw her tip her head back and let her eyes drift shut.

“Just remember…” she murmured, that husky voice nearly sending shivers down his spine even as it made his cock twitch in his coveralls, “You fuckin’ did it.”

** _<=Devon=>_ **

** **

Devon Asher walked across the parking lot between the Luna Mesa and the Sunset Motels that Walter owned. Regina was coming down from the heroine he’d shot her up with earlier and she was begging for food. Since she’d been compliant the past couple days, he’d been making it easier on her. While he wasn’t some fucking pussy whipped schmuck, he didn’t see the point in taking it out on her if she was behaving herself. When he roughed her up, it only made it more difficult on him when he was ready for another helping. And he just couldn’t have that. So, as long as she did as she was told, he’d take it easy on her. In fact, he was even going to indulge her in one of her favorite meals for lunch today.

He pushed the door to the Mesa open and sauntered in, heading right for the bar. Walter met him at the bar with a single, downward nod.

“What can I get you?” Walter questioned in that heavy Mexican accent.

“Can I get a rib eye, well done, and an order of steak fries with a beer?” Devon asked.

Walter just nodded and went to place his order with the cook.

Devon knew that Walter would do anything he asked. He was Walter’s pride and joy. Devon could do no wrong as far as the old man was concerned. _Mac_ was the family fuckup. But, lately, business had been going well for Mac and it was _really_ starting to annoy Devon. Something needed to happen to upset the balance. Mac wasn’t meant to impress Walter. Walter thought that Mac was worse than the dirt on his snakeskin boots. And Devon wanted to keep it that way.

Walter brought his beer over to set it in front of him and informed him, “It’ll be about 15 minutes or so.”

Devon just nodded. He could wait. And Regina would have to wait even longer since he wouldn’t order her food until he’d finished his. If she bitched, she could do without.

“You talk ta that man about another batch?” Devon inquired quietly, glancing around the bar to make sure that no one had heard him.

The bar was empty now and that’s how Devon preferred it, unless he was on the prowl. He didn’t want everyone in town knowing his business.

The old man gave a single, downward nod and replied, “I did. He said that it would be in on Wednesday.”

Devon nodded in response. That was only a couple days away. He could wait that long. He’d have enough to keep her calm and compliant until the new shipment came in.

“How is she?” Walter asked.

“She’s all right,” Devon answered, “She’s been real good lately. In fact, I’m gonna pick up her favorite meal and take it back to her after I finish my own food.”

Walter just nodded and told him, “If you tell me what it is when I bring your food, I can place her order and have it ready for you by the time you’ve finished your food.”

Devon nodded. That wasn’t a bad idea.

While he waited for his food, his mind rehashed the events of last night. Regina had actually told him she loved him without having to be prompted. She hadn’t tried to scoot away from him when he’d snuggled up to her after he was finished making love to her. She’d just closed her eyes and given a dreamy-looking smile as he’d kissed her cheek and stroked her hair. In the past couple months, he’d made quite a bit of progress with her. She was slowly warming up to him. He had no intentions of weaning her off of the drugs though. That would pose too much of a risk.

“How’s the real estate business goin’?” Devon asked Walter when the old man came over to refill his glass.

“It’s going good, son. It’s going _very_ good,” Walter stated, “I rented that nice little house out on Mendocino Drive to a beautiful young lady. She came here about a week ago, paid cash for 3 months down, and told me she’d be back in a week. She showed up yesterday with 2 men.”

“Yeah?” Devon inquired, not really interested but listening to appease his father anyway.

“She’ll drive all the boys here in Caineville crazy,” Walter hinted, “I bet she’d catch your attention, son. She’s got raven-colored hair, curls falling down to her chin. She has the brightest green eyes. And she has the body of a goddess under those clothes I’m sure.”

Devon’s brows rose. Maybe she _would_ catch his attention. It wasn’t often that Devon strayed from Regina. But, when his testosterone got the urge to sample something new, he didn’t deny it.

“Did you get her name?” Devon pressed.

“She said it was Mariska. Mariska Rudaj,” Walter said.

“Rudaj…” Devon pondered aloud.

It sounded familiar. He just couldn’t place it.

“The name sounds Russian, no?” Walter suggested.

Devon nodded and replied, “It could be. It’s definitely European.”

“She looks exotic, Devon. Prettier than all those damn college girls that flock in here on vacation,” Walter informed him.

Devon gave a slow nod. This “Mariska” sounded _very_ intriguing. He wondered when he’d get to meet her. _Surely_ he’d bump into her soon if she was living in Caineville for the next 3 months. It was a small town and there was only one place to go for most of the essentials there in town.

A little bell sounded and Walter headed off to go grab Devon’s food. He carried it over to set it in front of him, handing him a fork and a steak knife. He set the barbeque sauce next to his plate and walked away to let Devon eat in peace while he wiped down the tables from the lunch crowd that had come in earlier.

“You wanna go ahead and place an order for Reggie?” Devon inquired when the old man returned from cleaning off the tables.

Walter nodded and asked, “What does she want?”

“A hamburger with just ketchup and lattice fries,” he answered, “And a container of ketchup to go.”

Walter nodded and scribbled the order down before walking over to the window at the kitchen to hang the order up.

Devon had just finished his food, when he heard the door of the bar swing open. He turned his head to casually glance over his shoulder and his head snapped back around again to do a double take. His hazel eyes grew real wide and his jaw fell open. Hell the damn thing nearly came unhinged!

“Ahh… That’s her…” Walter sighed, “That’s Mariska. She’s a beauty, isn’t she? She’s going to drive all the men crazy, me included, of course.”

“Oh fuck…” Devon cursed, his eyes growing wider and wider as he watched the young woman walk into the bar with a man on either side of her.

He knew those faces. And he knew that her name wasn’t Mariska Rudaj. Her name was Dahlia Chevenandrova and it was spelled T-R-O-U-B-L-E.

Devon bolted from his chair and started for the door.

“You forgot Regina’s food!” Walter called after him.

“Take it over to her! Make sure she gets as much to eat as she wants! I’ve gotta go find Mac!” Devon hollered back as he ran out of the bar and hurried across the parking lot to the old van his mother had left him.

Dahlia Chevenandrova was the leader of the Black Rose Rebellion, the most notorious gang in all of Los Angeles County. And those were her second and third in command, Chaz Mathers and Wick Ramsey. He’d heard _all_ about them while he’d been in college there in L.A. Their little stunts had been broadcasted on the news on _numerous_ occasions. Granted, the gang always wore masks to cover their faces but they always left their trademark “BRR” at the scene of the crime. Hell even the Los Angeles _police_ had feared the gang. The Rebellion was 13 men strong and headed by one of the only female gang leaders in Los Angeles County. Not much was known about the gang. But what _was_ known _wasn’t_ good.

The gang was ruthless, cunning, and always on the alert. They were very precise when they took out their competition, very serious about their business, and _very_ good at getting their point across. Other gangs didn’t fuck with the Rebellion because revenge coming from the Rebellion was _always_ served cold and _extremely_ deadly. There was no room for error. No exceptions were made and no one was forgiven for their trespasses against the gang or any of its members. That gang was like a family and, when one member was wronged, the _whole_ gang took it upon themselves to exact vengeance for that member. And, if the Black Rose Rebellion was there in Caineville… It could only mean trouble. Trouble for Mac’s business, which meant trouble for Walter.

While Devon didn’t give a _rat’s_ ass about Mac, he couldn’t let Walter take the fall for the family fuckup. If the Rebellion decided that Mac was a threat and that he needed to be wiped out, Devon wouldn’t stop them, just so long as it wasn’t him they were gunning for. Hell, if it came down to it, they could take Walter too. Devon would take Regina and split. But, until he knew what they were doing there in Caineville, he had to play it cool.

Devon kept a close eye on the speedometer while he was on the main stretch of road that ran through town but, once he made the turnoff that would lead out to the old cave, he drove like a bat out of hell. He reached the cave in record-breaking time and threw the van in park, hopping out and rushing for the entrance of the cave.

** _–=Mac=–_ **

** **

Mac heard clumsy feet tripping over the uneven floor of the tunnel. It sounded like they were headed _right_ for the room in the cave that he used for cooking up the meth his customers ordered.

“The fuck?” he pondered aloud.

Hardly _anyone_ knew of the cave’s location and that was what made it the _ideal_ location to cook.

His eyes searched the room in the cave until they landed on a crowbar. He went over to pick it up and started for the entrance where the tunnel met up with the room that served as his meth lab. He was surprised to see Devon, of all people, come running out of the tunnel, panting and gasping for air. He was covered in sweat and his eyes were real wide.

“The fuck are ya doin’?” Mac grumbled, “Ya tryin’ ta get yer stupid self killed?”

“Trouble…” Devon panted, doubling over to rest his hands on his knees as he gasped, trying to fill his lungs with oxygen.

“The fuck ya mean ‘trouble’?” Mac pressed even as he went to go set the crowbar back where he’d found it.

Shit if it was just Devon, he didn’t need a weapon to beat his ass. And the fucking pussy seemed to be a bit short of breath as it was so he had the upper hand in terms of stamina as well brute strength. Walter wouldn’t be able to save his precious little golden boy if he pissed Mac off this time. He was nowhere in sight.

“At the Mesa…” Devon wheezed.

“What about it?” Mac prompted, “Come on, dumbass. Spit it the fuck out!”

He didn’t have much patience to begin with and it was sure as hell wearing thin when the blundering idiot wouldn’t just come out with it.

“There’s a gang… from L.A…” he said, “They’re _bad_ news, Mac… _Very_ bad news…”

Mac’s brows furrowed at that. Who the fuck cared?

“The fuck’s this got ta do with me?” Mac questioned.

“They don’t like competition. If they’re here ta stay in Caineville, they’ll try ta take ya out,” Devon informed him, standing up straight when he’d finally regained his breath.

Mac’s brows rose at that.

Oh they _would_, would they? Well he’d just _love_ to see them try. He doubted those little punks from the city had dealt with anything like him before.

“Jimmy’s in the back with a pocket of high. If you listen close, you can hear him cry, ‘Oh Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down below.’ Sing it! Oh Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down below. Way down below. Way down below. Judy’s in the front seat, pickin’ up trash. Livin’ on the dull, gotta make that cash. Won’t be pretty. Won’t be sweet. She’s just sittin’ here on her feet singin’ ‘Oh Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down below.’ Go! Oh Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down. Sing ‘Oh Lord, tell us so. We belong way down below.’ Oh Lord, tell us so. We belong way down below. Way down below. Way down below. Way down below. Way down below. I’ve had better days, man. I’ve seen better daaaaaays. I’ve had better ways, man. I’ve known better waaaaaays…” Mac heard Ziva sing, making him turn his head to peer back over his shoulder at her, “One, two, three, and four. The Devil’s knockin’ at your door. Caught in the eye of a dead man’s lie. Start your life with your head held high. Now you’re on your knees with your head hung low. Big man tells you where to go. Tell him it’s good. Tell him okay. But don’t do a goddamn thing they say…”

She had her head tipped back in the lawn chair he had her tied to, her eyes closed as she sang along to whatever song was playing through her head. Mac’s lips twitched as he fought off a smile. He didn’t know what the song was but it sure sounded good when she sang it in that low, husky voice of hers. Hell she sounded better than half of those damn rock stars on the radio. And the song suited her personality. Shit it suited _his_ personality.

“Who the fuck is that?” Devon questioned, pointing over at Ziva.

Mac’s little plaything cracked her eyes open and she slowly turned her head to gaze lazily over at him. Her face scrunched up, her nose wrinkling in disgust.

“Who’s your ugly friend?” she asked, looking at Mac for an answer.

Mac couldn’t help but laugh at that. Hell he damn near cackled when he saw Devon’s face contort in anger.

“What the fuck did she just say?” Devon demanded, already having forgotten what the fuck he’d even come out to the cave for.

“I s_aid_ ‘Who’s your ugly friend?’” she repeated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Mac bit his upper lip to keep his smile at bay. He’d have to remember that. She thought Devon was ugly. While he shouldn’t have been affected by a comment like that at all, he found it to be rather reassuring. For once in his goddamn, miserable life, a woman found Devon undesirable. What made it even better was the fact that she’d called Mac himself “handsome” earlier that afternoon. So she found Mac attractive and she had no interest in Devon whatsoever.

“His name’s Devon,” Mac answered.

“Well I don’t like him,” Ziva stated quite bluntly before staring up at the ceiling again.

Mac was reduced to cackling as he watched Devon’s face turn a bright shade of red even as it scrunched up in pure rage. Scratch that. She just didn’t like Devon at all.

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are –,” Devon shouted, pointing at her and starting over towards the chair she was tied to even as Mac straightened up again.

But the sassy little raven-haired hellion retorted, “I’m Ziva Chevenandrova, you fucking prick! Come at me and see what fuckin’ happens!”

Mac had just stepped in between them, afraid of what Devon might try to do to his new little toy, before he saw Devon’s eyes grow real wide. His hazel eyes filled with something that resembled fear and his face went from tomato red to almost paper white. Mac hadn’t found too many things that Devon was afraid of. But, by damn, something about his little plaything scared the shit out of little golden boy.

Devon swallowed hard and shook his head, practically groaning, “Oh _no_… No, no, _no_! _Fuck_!”

“_No_ I will not fuck you,” Ziva countered from behind Mac.

Mac began to chuckle again. She sure as hell was a feisty little thing. She had more sass in that tiny body than any of his other victims had. Hell she probably had more fire in her _pinky_ finger than most of the others had had in their _whole_ damn body on a _good_ day.

“Mac, you’ve gotta get rid of her. And I mean _fast_,” Devon told him, all the words rushing out of his mouth in a hurry, “This is bad. This is _so_ fucking bad!”

Mac watched as Devon brought both hands up to fist his hair, his fingers grasping the brown locks tight.

“The fuck are ya talkin’ about?” Mac questioned.

“Her!” Devon cried, pointing at Ziva again, “She looks _just_ like Dahlia.”

“Who?” Mac prompted.

“You know Dahlia Chevenandrova?” Ziva asked, her voice sounding quite hopeful, much to Mac’s dismay.

Mac frowned. It wasn’t like him to get disappointed when his victims sounded hopeful about escaping from him. Granted, he never let them escape anyway, at least not far enough that they could actually run from him. Sure, he liked to let them think they had a chance, only to crush their hopes and drag them back to the cave again, kicking and screaming and bawling their eyes out. But _this_ little bitch wasn’t going _anywhere_.

“Who the fuck’s Dahlia Chevy-whatever?” Mac inquired.

“She’s her sister,” Devon answered even as Ziva stated, “She’s my sister.”

“God she looks _so_ much like her…” Devon muttered, his eyes fastening to Ziva again.

Mac’s jaw clenched and his nostrils flared in anger. He didn’t like the way Devon’s eyes were roaming over his plaything.

“Mac, you’ve _gotta_ get rid of her. Like _now_. Don’t fuck her. That’ll only leave traces of your… DNA in her body. Just… Just kill her and dump her somewhere,” Devon insisted.

“I’m not gonna ‘get rid of her’,” Mac snapped, “I haven’t even had my fun with her yet!”

“By damn, if I’m gonna die, there’d better _damn_ well be some _amazing_ sex first!” Ziva chimed in.

“Listen, Mac. You don’t want her sister and the gang she runs with ta find her here. They’ll fuckin’ _kill_ you,” Devon pressed.

Like _fuck_ they would.

“They’ll never find the fuckin’ cave,” Mac retorted, awfully damn sure of his comeback.

“You don’t get it!” Devon cried, reaching up to fist his hands in his short, brown hair again, “She’s a fucking liability! Dahlia’s father is the head of the fucking Albanian mafia! Dahlia _herself_ is the head of the most notorious fucking gang in all of Los Angeles County! And she’s eating at the Luna Mesa as we _speak_!”

“You saw my sister?” Ziva asked, those hazel eyes lighting up at the idea of her sister being in town.

Enough was enough. _no_ one was going to take his fucking toy away from him. _Especially_ not Devon, Walter’s little golden boy.

Mac snarled at Devon, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and slamming him up against the cave wall. He was rewarded with the sound of Devon’s teeth snapping together as his head smacked off the cave wall. Devon cried out in pain and Mac’s ego soared. So he’d hurt the little fucker? Well good. If Devon didn’t leave well enough alone, a bump on his fucking head was going to be the _least_ of his fucking problems.

“I don’t know what the fuck yer tryin’ ta pull here but I don’t fuckin’ like it. You’d be smart ta fuckin’ leave and not come back out ta the cave again, Asher. That’s the _hottest_ fuckin’ toy I’ve found yet. You ruin this for me and I’m gonna take Regina and fuck her ‘til that pussy’s bleedin’ and busted wide open. Ya got me?” Mac growled, his crystal blue orbs piercing right through Devon as he cut him the sharpest fucking glare he’d ever dealt the little prick, “I’ll fuck her up so damn bad you’ll never wanna touch her again.”

Devon’s hazel eyes grew wider and wider. He _clearly_ hadn’t expected Mac to rough him up. And Mac knew that the one thing he really cared about was Regina, the sick little fucker. So he wasn’t surprised when Devon just gave a jerky nod.

“Say it!” Mac demanded, slamming him up against the wall of the cave again to rattle him a bit further, “Fuckin’ _say_ it!”

“All right!” Devon agreed, “All right! I won’t tell anyone about your little toy! Just let me go!”

Mac released his grip on Devon’s shirt, dropping the little fucker on his ass on the cave floor and taking a couple steps back. Devon scurried across the floor in some awkward crab walk before pushing himself up onto his feet, his wild, hazel eyes never leaving Mac’s blue ones.

“You have _no_ idea what kinda trouble you’re gonna bring onto yourself, Mac!” Devon called as he started for the tunnel, “You’ll be dead within a week!”

Mac snorted and rolled his eyes before glancing over at his little plaything.

She was giggling, grinning up at him like an idiot.

“_Maaaaaaac_,” she crooned, “_Mac_-aroni and cheese. _Mac_-intosh. _Mac_-kenzie. Big _Mac_ Attack. _Mac_-kerel. _Mac_-adamia. _Mac_ truck.”

He rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh.

“Yeah. _No _more meth for you,” he told her.

“I don’t like that Devon guy,” she said with a frown even as she shook her head, “I don’t like him at _all_.”

Mac nodded to her and replied, “Me neither.”

Almost as if she’d just forgotten their little conversation, she tipped her head back and hummed, “Mmm… I feel _so_ nice… My body’s all tingly and warm… It’s like that ‘just been fucked’ sensation you get after a good, intense orgasm.”

He groaned. Yeah. That topic of conversation wasn’t any better either. It was bad enough that he had to fucking wait until he was done cooking before he could have his fun with her.

He turned his back to her and went over to check on the containers again.

He’d made up his mind though. He was going to keep her, at least for the rest of the night. He was going to fuck her before the night was through. If she was a good fuck, then he’d keep her. Granted, he’d have to keep her at HIS place since Devon might be stupid enough to try coming out to the cave again to look for her or take her while Mac was gone. And he couldn’t have that. He’d be _damned_ if he let Devon ruin this for him. Damn it, he’d _finally_ found a hot little toy, a _brand_ spanking new one, and he wasn’t _about_ to let Devon steal it from him. He’d play with it until he got bored with it and _then_ he’d get rid of it. But he wasn’t going to get rid of it until he was _damn_ good and ready to.

** Lyrics from the Song: **

_Adrenalize _by In This Moment

_Heaven Knows_ by The Pretty Reckless

** Author’s Note: ** ** As I promised, there are personal thank you notes to hand out here.**

**First off, I’d like to thank everyone for reading the chapter – if you managed to make it this far.**

**Secondly, thank you to _each_ and every person who has ever reviewed _any_ of my chapters or one-shots.**

**Thirdly, thank you to those of you who have my stories or added them to your alert list. Likewise to those of you who have added _me_ to your favorites or alerts list.**

**To UsefulSpirits: You always manage to write the most _amusing_ messages. You’ve reduced me to tears of laughter on more than one occasion while reading messages you’ve sent me. Your messages are unlike any others because of your sarcasm and quite amusing sense of humor. I _always_ appreciate your reviews and your friendship is invaluable, dear.**

**To ILovePotatoes94: I’d like to thank you for your patience. Hell you were with me clear back when I was writing Garrett Hedlund fanfictions – I think the Death Sentence ones were always your favorite but I might be wrong (it’s been a few years now). I’m _still_ just as eager as ever to receive your messages and reviews and that will _never_ change, dear.**

**To the lovely ladies from the “Manic Mac – A Red Canyon Community” I’ve started up: I can’t thank you enough for agreeing to join the community and you’ve all posted some _phenomenal_ stories on there. I’m always amazed by just how talented some of the writers here on this site are.**

**And _now_, to my team of readers who have helped me like no others…**

**To Mizu: Thanks for hanging in there with me so long, dear. I know that you’ve had a lot going on lately and I hope that things will ease up for you soon. I’m always just as happy as ever to hear from you, whether it’s a message or a review or whatever. Thank you _so_ much for agreeing to read over my shitty first draft and give me your feedback on it. I can’t thank you all enough.**

**And, last but _certainly_ not least, to my newfound team of _wonderful_ betas. My chapter sure as hell wouldn’t be as neat and polished without you!**

**To BorchMadsen: I think you know Mac’s character better than anyone else who’s ever read my stories and you’ve read enough of my stories to get the gist of my writing style and the kind of crazy ideas my psychotic brain cooks up. So I couldn’t have found anyone better to keep me in check in terms of keeping Mac in character throughout my chapters.**

**And, to Shadows7X: You already know that you being at the bottom of this list has _nothing_ to do with how much I love ya. You’ve been there with me since before I even started posting here on Fanfiction. You’ve been with me for just over 6 years now. You’ve seen me at my best and my worst. You’ve seen my writing clear back in the early stages – and those stories _still_ make me cringe any time I read over them – and you’ve seen me progress and learn over those years. I couldn’t _possibly_ ever find a better friend. You know _everything_ about me and you’re _still_ the only one that I confide my deep, dark secrets in. I can never truly express how much you mean to me or how much I love you. I can’t ever thank you for all the help you’ve offered me over the years. I can’t tell you how much your reviews mean to me – _especially_ since they’re so in-depth and you let me know your every thought and reaction to the various parts of the chapters. But, more than anything, I can’t tell you how just being able to talk to you, whenever we get the chance, makes my damn day _every_ time. I love writing stories with you but, as I’m sure you’ve learned by now, even just being able to talk to you means the world to me. I couldn’t have come this far with you. You know it as well as I do. I would’ve given up a _long_ time ago if it wasn’t for you, dear.**


	2. Going to Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, we find out a little more about Ziva and Dahlia's past, as well as get a little glimpse at Mac and Ziva's sex life. Consider yourself warned.

**UPCOMING SHIT… I haven't quite decided if I'd like to pursue a new Mac story and I haven't really come up with any ideas that I actually like for anything Mac-related in terms of a new story. I do like the idea of continuing on with Fatal Attraction here though.**

**ANYONE INTERESTED IN MY TAKE ON MICHAEL MYERS…? I _do_ have 2 chapters of a Halloween story – based on Rob Zombie's remake, not the originals by John Carpenter – but I won't be posting it unless people are actually interested in reading it. I tried my hand at writing Ryan Kuhn from 13 Ghosts but no one bothered to read it. So I won't waste my time posting it unless I know people would actually like to read it.**

**FACEBOOK PAGE… If you would like to contact me outside of Fanfiction here, I do, in fact, have a Facebook page that I set up just for my Fanfiction friends to find me at. You'll find me under the name "Rose Rebellion" – you can't miss it because there's a picture of Mac in the cave for the profile picture and my cover photo is the banner I made for Fatal Attraction. You'll find banners I made for each of the characters for the story as well as one I made for the story itself.**

**TRANSLATIONS… There _are_ translations for all the Albanian in this story. I _do_ apologize that it's clear at the fucking bottom – I know how much of a pain in the ass it can be so scroll all the fucking time because I've done it myself. But they _are_ down there at the bottom – as is the list of songs I used lyrics from in this chapter.**

**HINTS… I can promise a naked Mac in this chapter. I can also promise some more information about Wick, Chaz, and Dahlia. That's all you're getting as far as the hints go.**

**Chapter 2: Going to Hell**

_(The end is the end)_  
_(Don't bless me, Father, for I have sinned)_

_Father, did you miss me?_  
_I've been locked up a while._  
_I got caught for what I did but took it all in style._  
_Laid to rest all my confessions I gave way back when._  
_Now I'm versed in so much worse,_  
_So I am back again._  
_And he said_

_For the lines that I take, I'm going to hell!_  
_For the love that I make, I'm going to hell!_

_Gettin' heavy with the devil, you can hear the wedding bells._

_Father, did you miss me?_  
_Don't ask me where I've been._  
_You know I know._  
_Yes, I've been told I redefine a sin._  
_I don't know what's driving me to put this in my head._  
_Maybe I wish I could die, maybe I am dead!_  
_And he said_

_For the lives that I fake, I'm going to hell!_  
_For the vows that I break, I'm going to hell!_

_For the ways that I hurt, when I'm hiking up my skirt._  
_I am sittin' on a throne while they're buried in the dirt._

_For the man that I hate, I'm going to hell!_

_Gettin' heavy with the devil, you can hear the wedding bells._

_Please forgive me, Father._  
_I didn't mean to bother you._  
_The devil's in me, Father._  
_He's inside of everything I do._

_For the lives that I take, I'm going to hell!_  
_For the laws that I break, I'm going to hell!_  
_For the love that I hate, I'm going to hell!_  
_For the lies that I make, I'm going to hell!_

_For the way I condescend and never lend a hand._  
_My arrogance is making this head buried in the sand._  
_For the souls I forsake, I'm going to hell!_

_Gettin' married to the devil, you can hear the wedding bells._

** _~*Dahlia*~_ **

Dahlia Chevenandrova bit her bottom lip as she watched Wick give Walter their orders for lunch. Chaz was watching from his perch on the chair beside her, every muscle in his body tense as his hazel eyes glared at the creepy ass Mexican man that was standing behind the bar. Hell he was sitting straighter than a damn two by four in his chair.

Dahlia leaned over, bringing her mouth to his ear even as one of her hands gently rubbed at his upper thigh, just below the crotch of his jeans.

She nibbled lightly at his ear, feeling him relax just a little as she purred, "Lighten up, Chazzie. If he gives us any problems, I know you boys can handle it."

"With fuckin' pleasure," was Chaz's retort.

She nuzzled at his cheek and reached out to gently cup his chin in her hand.

"Hey…" she crooned softly, catching his attention.

He looked over at her and she offered him a bright smile. She saw the corner of his lips twitch and knew that he was fighting back a smile of his own.

"I love you," she prompted, just before bringing her lips to his for a brief peck.

"You know I love you," came his answer, making her previous smile return to grace her lips.

She nodded to confirm his statement.

A few minutes later, Wick came over to the table, setting a bottle of Jack down on the table with a couple shot glasses and a full glass of Jack and Coke for Dahlia.

Wick pointed to his cheek and Dahlia giggled, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. He gave a sly little crooked grin and she smiled at him.

"Gimme a _real_ kiss," she told him, leaning closer again.

"A _real_ kiss?" Wick questioned, "Baby, I don't think the public eye can _handle_ that shit."

She laughed and puckered her lips and he got the point. The kiss was brief, just like the one she'd shared with Chaz, and she shared another smile with Wick before her black brows wrinkled in confusion. Her phone was going off.

She reached down into her pocket to tug her cell phone out, the cause of the vibrating sensation in her pocket. It was probably one of the gang members, making sure that she and the boys had gotten out of the city all right and that they were safely holed up somewhere the authorities wouldn't think to look for them.

But, when she looked down at the name that flashed across the screen, her eyes widened. Both Chaz and Wick looked at her with their dark brows wrinkled in worry and confusion.

"Who is it?" they questioned in unison.

Dahlia held her finger up to signal to them that she was going to take the call and then she pressed the _send_ button to answer the call.

"_Babai?" _she greeted.

It wasn't often that her father called. He only came to the United States a few times a year to visit his children – the ones that didn't live in Albania at least. Her two oldest brothers, Luka and Mikael, lived in Albania with him and helped him run the Albanian mafia they were a part of back there in their homeland. Dmitri and Vigo were running a gang up in Boston, Massachusetts. Nikolai was living in Los Angeles and was heavily involved in street racing and running the illegal chop shop that Dahlia's gang used to make part of their profits. And Julius had just gotten out of the pin himself, thanks to a really good lawyer.

Luka and Mikael had the same mother, a calm, mild-mannered, brunette by the name of Mariska. Julius's mother was a bubbly little blonde by the name of Tereza. Dmitri and Vigo were born to a woman named Constance, a feisty, "redheaded rattlesnake" as their father called her. Nikolai and Dahlia's mother was the sweetest woman of the bunch, a pretty raven-haired gypsy woman with bright green eyes by the name of Sarafina. Her father had created 7 children with 4 different women. Her father had just _insisted_ that all of the children have his last name, regardless of whether they were born in Albania or not. Over the years, they'd come to call the family the "Chevenandrova clan". They had family reunions at least once a year, large ceremonies that usually lasted a few days and were either held in their homeland or somewhere in the United States. These were usually held on Christmas or Thanksgiving, a holiday that the Chevenandrovas hadn't started celebrating until some of the American members of the family had begun partaking in the holiday. Since it was a feast, the men in the family had been quick to agree that it was a "necessary holiday".

Dahlia couldn't help but wonder what would cause her father to call in the middle of March though.

"_Ah, Dahlia. Si është vajza ime foshnja?"_ the man's raspy voice replied in perfect Albanian.

She frowned and replied, _"Duket se ne u përplas me disa telashe përsëri në Los Angeles."_

"_Çfarë lloj telashe?"_ he questioned, concern filling his deep voice.

She knew those dark brows would be wrinkled in worry.

Dahlia heaved a sigh and answered, _"E keqe e mjaftueshme që Wick, Chaz, dhe unë kam për të ikur nga Los Angeles dhe të gjejnë një vend për të hedhur të ulët derisa gjërat të hedhur mbi mbrapa në L.A."_

"_Dhe pse nuk ju vijnë në Shqipëri, Dahlia im? Ju e dini se ju jeni gjithmonë të mirëpritur këtu," _her father pointed out.

She nodded and reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose, stating, _"Unë e di, baba. Por unë nuk duan të rrezikojnë autoritetet duke u përpjekur për të marrë dikush tjetër poshtë me ne, në qoftë se ata do të arrijnë të na gjeni. Unë nuk dua të sjellë probleme apo turp për familjen time."_

"_Dashuria e një baba-së nuk njeh turp," _he scolded gently.

She nodded, despite the pout curling at her lips and agreed, _"Unë e di, baba."_

"_Por ju jeni të sigurt?"_ he pressed.

Of _course_ he was worried about her. Hell she was the baby of the family and neither her father nor her brothers would _ever_ let her forget that little fact.

She nodded and informed him, _"Po, po. Kam gjetur një shtëpi simpatik pak për ne që të marrësh me qira në një qytet të vogël rurale. Nuk ka asgjë për milje e milje. Dhe kushdo që përbën një kërcënim për të mbuluar tonë do të jenë të shpejt dhe në heshtje asgjësuar. Ne kemi marrë atë nën kontroll, baba."_

"_Ah, kjo është vajza ime,"_ he praised.

After a short pause, he said, _"Unë kam zbuluar se ju keni një motër atje në Shtetet e Bashkuara, moj e shtrenjta Dahlia."_

She had a sister?!

She gasped, quickly earning both of her boys' attention and cried, _"Me të vërtetë?"_

"_Unë do të thotë atë me të vërtetë,"_ came his response.

"_Kjo nuk është një tjetër një nga shaka tuaj të dehur, është ajo?"_ she pressed, frowning as she waited for his answer.

He had a tendency of calling his children late at night when he'd had a bit too much to drink and pulling pranks on them over the phone. He'll he'd concocted all _kinds_ of crazy stories to tell them. And several of those stories were relayed during their family reunions, much to his displeasure – though he'd have to fight back a smile and cough to cover up his laughter when they were retold in front of the family.

"_Jo, jo. Nëna më ka kontaktuar disa muaj më parë, ranting dhe cussing një stuhi se si unë kishte një vajzë dhe kurrë nuk e kishte shqetësuar për të dërguar ndonjëherë asaj një qindarkë për të mbështetur atë. Tha të vërtetën, ajo ka qenë gjithmonë një rrodhe._ _Doja të jetë i sigurt se fëmija ishte me të vërtetë e imja. Në fund të fundit, nëse ajo është vajza ime, kam kërkuar për të parë prova. Unë kam vetëm rezultatet përsëri dje. Ajo e imja. Ju duhet të shikoni foton e saj, Dahlia. Ajo duket aq shumë si ju. Të gjatë, me onde, korbi me ngjyrë të flokëve dhe të lëkurës thellë-tanned._ _Sytë e saj janë hazel. Nuk ka mohuar se ajo është me prejardhje shqiptare. Nuk ka dyshim se ajo është një Chevenandrova," _he assured her.

"_Ku është ajo? Ku është motra ime foshnja?"_ Dahlia prompted, feeling her chest tighten as his words sank in.

"_Tani për tani unë jam duke u përpjekur për të gjetur një mënyrë për të gjetur atë poshtë. Në fakt, unë jam duke e bërë një udhëtim të veçantë mbi të Shteteve të vetëm për të ndjekur e saj poshtë. Dhe unë jam duke e çuar djemtë me mua. Nëse ajo ka qenë në kujdesin e nënës së saj gjithë këto vite nuk ka thënë se çfarë lloj tmerret ajo e vuajtur nëpër._ _Zoti e di nëna e saj ishte një ferr i një kurvë egoiste, të interesuar vetëm në çështjet që fjalë veten," _he stated.

"_Babi, më tregoni se çfarë unë mund të bëj," _she was quick to offer.

"_Ju vetëm të qëndrojë aty ku je, Dahlia ime. Unë nuk e di edhe ku ajo është ende. Unë nuk mund të shkojnë humbur vajza e vetme unë e di, tani mund unë? Unë kam nevojë për ju për të qëndruar aty ku ju jeni të sigurt. Kur ne të gjeni atë, unë do të lidhen me ju," _he insisted.

Dahlia frowned at that. She didn't like that idea at _all_. If her little sister was out there somewhere, she wanted to find her. She wanted to meet her and see if she had that natural fire burning inside of her that the rest of the Chevenandrova clan did. While most people said someone with spunk had "piss and vinegar" running through their veins, the Chevenandrovas insisted that it was "vodka and adrenaline" that coursed through theirs.

"_Por, baba –," _she started.

"_Mos 'Por, baba 'mua. Unë kam nevojë për ju për të qëndruar vënë. Kur ne gjejmë atë, ne do të sjellë atë për të parë ju. Ju mendoni se vëllezërit e tu nuk janë të etur për të përmbushur e saj, si dhe?" _he questioned.

She couldn't help but laugh at that. She was just _certain_ that her brothers would all swarm around the newest member of the family. They always surrounded her like a pack of hungry vultures when they met for their family reunions. She couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor girl. Her first encounter with all of them was bound to be overwhelming. Still, she wanted to be the first to meet her sister. Surely the girl would rather meet a milder Chevenandrova first, the only sister she would have – at least on the Chevenandrova side.

She frowned and heaved a sigh but finally asked, _"Ju të paktën do të më thoni emrin e saj?"_

"_Emri i saj është Ziva,"_ he replied.

"Ziva…" she repeated, trying it out on her tongue to see if it was a name fit for a Chevenandrova.

A smile curled at her lips. She liked it. Ziva Chevenandrova.

"_Sa e vjetër është ajo?"_ Dahlia inquired.

"_Ajo duhet të jetë kthyer 21 Maj. Ajo është vetëm nja dy vjet më të rinj se ju, Dahlia im," _her father answered.

This would bring the Chevenandrova sibling count up to 8. Dahlia had previously been the baby of the family but, now, she would be replaced by Ziva as the youngest child. And she would _finally_ have a sister. Growing up with 6 brothers had been a royal pain in the ass, especially since they were all _older_ brothers. There was no denying that she was her father's favorite, however, and she couldn't help but wonder if that would change when Ziva came into the picture. Where would she fit in with the family? Who would she form the closest bonds with?

Dahlia heard someone speaking in the background before her father pressed his hand to the phone and mumbled something to the other person. A couple minutes later, he returned his attention to the conversation he'd been holding with Dahlia.

"_Më duhet të shkoj tani. Unë do t'ju kur kemi gjetur atë. Të dua, Dahlia tim ëmbël,"_ she heard her father say.

"_Unë të dua shumë, baba. Ajo ishte e bukur për të dëgjuar nga ju,"_ she said, just before she heard the telltale sound of the dial tone, signaling that he'd ended their call.

She sighed as she set her cell phone down on the table, frowning at it.

"What the hell was that all about?" Wick questioned, his dark brows wrinkled in confusion.

She looked over to find Chaz with a very similar expression on his handsome face and explained, "That was my father. Apparently… I have a baby sister."

"_What?!_" both of the boys cried in unison.

–**_=Mac=–_**

_You took me to your little crib_  
_Guess it must have been a big deal_  
_Got me starring in your wet dream_  
_Now it's time to get real_  
_I'm not looking for love_  
_No not today_  
_But you call me up and had the nerve to say_  
_See you next Tuesday_

_You call me a bitch like it's a bad thing_  
_You call me a freak like that means something_  
_Can't get your way so you're sulking_  
_I think we know the rest_  
_But get it off your chest_  
_I don't give a shit_  
_I love it when you call me a bitch like it's a bad thing_

_You show up everywhere I go_  
_Get a grip you're acting so weird_  
_I don't need your jager bombs_  
_I think I can take it from here_  
_You gotta learn to leave when the party ends_  
_I don't really care what you tell your friends_  
_Tell me again_

_You call me a bitch like it's a bad thing_  
_You call me a freak like that means something_  
_Can't get your way so you're angry_  
_I think we know the rest_  
_But get it off your chest_  
_I don't give a shit_  
_I love it when you call me a bitch_

_I think you hate me because you want me_  
_You only want what you can't have_  
_I'm just being who I want to be_  
_But you can't deal with that_

_You call me a bitch like it's a b-b-bad thing_  
_You call me a freak like it means something_  
_Can't get your way so you're so pissed off_  
_I think we know the rest_  
_But get it off your chest_  
_I don't give a shit_  
_I love it when you call me a bitch like it's a bad thing_

Macario Sanchez was _more_ than ready to go home by the time he'd finished cooking that night. It had taken him _hours_ to finish the double batch that he'd started cooking that day. It would put him four batches ahead of the orders that had been coming in recently. The _last_ fucking thing he wanted was for Walter to get on his ass again. He'd been doing a pretty good job of staying ahead of his orders lately and he didn't want to slip up. It would give Walter one less thing to bitch about and that kept him off Mac's back a bit longer.

But that didn't mean that he hadn't had any complications. Ziva was one hell of a spitfire when she was sober. But he was quickly coming to learn that she was even worse when she was high. She'd squirmed in the lawn chair he'd tied her to ever since Devon had left, growling in frustration every so often. When he'd asked her what her fucking problem was, she'd just snarled at him and spat that her ass was falling asleep. He'd grumbled that he'd smack it a good one and wake it the fuck up and, even though he'd thought it would be a convincing enough threat to keep her from squirming anymore, her squirming had only intensified. Hell she'd damn near wriggled her way right out of the fucking chair!

Mac stepped out of the room he was cooking in to go find a place to piss. All he had to do now was cut and bag the product. He could do that shit tomorrow. The shit was cooked. That was what mattered. The hardest part was done. Now he was looking _very_ forward to grabbing his new toy and taking her home. And if she didn't shut the fuck up soon, he was going to find a way to shut her up himself.

When he returned to the room in the cave that he used for his lab, he heard Ziva mumbling, "Stupid fucker keeps me tied to a goddamn fuckin' chair and just expects me ta fuckin' be happy about it? I don't fuckin' _think_ so. Goddamn it, I'm stuck with a fuckin' wet thong and the bastard won't even hook a bitch up."

"Oh I'll hook ya up all right," he snapped, walking around to stand in front of the chair he'd tied her to and leaning over to glare down at her with those piercing, bright blue eyes even as he gripped her arms in his big hands, "Yer gonna fuckin' get it when we get home. And if ya don't behave yer little self on the fuckin' way there, I'll pull over and punish ya 'fore we even get home."

He watched as a shudder raced down her spine. He half expected her to cringe but she didn't. Instead, she bit her bottom lip, those hazel eyes roaming over his body. And _damn_ if his cock didn't twitch in his coveralls upon discovering that she was eyeing him up.

"Yer a dirty fuckin' bitch," he accused.

"Mmm-_hmm_…" she agreed, nodding her head, "The dirtiest."

At this point, he didn't doubt it.

He reached into one pocket of his coveralls and pulled out a pair of handcuffs, holding them up in front of her face with one finger. A crooked little smirk curled at those full lips of hers and she got this wicked twinkle in her eyes, one that made a shudder race down his spine.

"Better watch it, bitch," he told her, "Ya keep that shit up and yer gonna make me love ya."

She just laughed and replied, "I don't know what the fuck people told ya, but love doesn't exist."

His brows rose a bit. This bitch had more in common with him than he cared to admit.

She waggled her brows at him and commented, "Doesn't stop me from havin' my fuckin' fun though."

His face fell into an annoyed expression and he reached down to untie her right ankle first, stopping halfway through untying the knot to look up at her and remind her, "Ya do somethin' stupid and yer gonna fuckin' wish you'd never even _thought_ of it."

She just smirked at him and waited patiently while he finished untying the knot. He untied her other ankle and she rolled first one ankle and then the other. He heard a telltale _pop_ come from both of them and his brows rose as he glanced back up at her.

"Shitty joints," she explained, "Got it from the bitch that gave birth ta me, though she blames part of it on my father."

He shrugged and reached up to start in on the knot at her right wrist before freezing in place.

She was using her bare foot to rub it over the crotch of his coveralls, the heel of her foot running up and down over the seam and teasing his cock over the cotton fabric. He felt his cock twitch before it started to perk up a bit.

She must've realized it too because she gave him a smug little smirk and purred, "Oh, so you're _not_ made of stone, huh?"

"Keep that shit up and he'll be rock hard," he informed her, "Now quit yer fuckin' horsin' around. Sit the fuck still and keep yer… _feet_ ta yerself."

None of the other bitches he'd held hostage had ever pulled shit like that. Hell he'd never had to tell them to keep their hands or feet or any other part of their body to themselves. They might've tried to lash out at him but they _sure_ as shit hadn't tried to turn him on!

But Ziva didn't listen. Instead, she applied even _more_ pressure, tracing the outline of his dick with her heel and working her foot up and down his length over his coveralls.

He cut her a harsh glare and slapped her foot away from him before moving around to the side of the chair to continue working on the knot that kept her right wrist tied to the lawn chair.

"Maybe I want him hard," Ziva stated, "Maybe I want him ready."

"Well yer just gonna hafta fuckin' wait 'til we get home," Mac retorted.

He couldn't _believe_ that _he_ was the one to tell a _woman_ that she had to fucking wait. Usually he just took what the fuck he wanted _when_ he wanted it. But he couldn't risk Devon coming back out there to the cave and finding his new little toy there or worse. If the stupid little fucker told Walter about her, Walter would take her and fuck her himself, just to punish Mac for disobeying Devon. Mac would just have to keep her at his place. He'd have to make them think that he'd killed her and dumped her body somewhere.

He felt warm breath ghosting over his ear and jerked his head back, glaring at the raven-haired bitch who had managed to lean in closer while he'd been deep in thought.

"Sit the fuck still!" he shouted.

"Oooo!" she said, giving a fake shudder, "I'm _so_ scared, Mac."

"You'd be smart if ya fuckin' _were_ scared, ya stupid little bitch," he snapped.

She cocked one dark brow at him and informed him, "I might be a _lot_ of things, Mac, but stupid _isn't_ one of 'em."

He saw the fire dancing in her eyes and realized that he'd hit a nerve with her. She'd been pushing his buttons all fucking day so he decided to press hers.

"Ya sure 'bout that?" he questioned.

She narrowed those hazel eyes at him and, the next thing he knew, she'd brought her head down to crack him in the nose. He heard the sickening crunch and snarled in anger, backing away from the chair and tipping his head back. He pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes tight before snapping it back into place. He gave a low groan as his nose reset and pinched the bridge of it even harder, trying to stop the blood flow.

"Better tip your head forward, dumbass," she instructed, "Tippin' it back will only make the blood run down your throat. And the average human can only swallow a pint of blood before they hoark."

"Yer gonna fuckin' pay for that one," he warned, his voice coming out a little more nasally than he'd intended since he was still holding his nose.

She just laughed and imitated him in a nasally voice, "'Yer gonna fuckin' pay for that one.'"

He sighed. This was going to be a _long_ fucking night. But then he got an idea. He could still get even with her.

A wicked little grin curled his lips and he kicked one leg out, tipping the flimsy lawn chair over onto one side.

"_Motherfucker!_" she shrieked at him as she hit the floor, still tied to the chair, "_Ooo!_ You're gonna fuckin' pay for that one."

He just laughed at that and used the line she'd used on him earlier that afternoon, "'Now we're even.'"

"We are _so_ not fucking even!" she objected.

"Ya broke my fuckin' nose! I oughta break one of yer fuckin' bones, ya crazy bitch!" he shot back.

She just laughed and replied, "You keep callin' me a bitch like it's a bad thing. When are you gonna fuckin' learn, Mac? It doesn't faze me. It's just a damn word."

"I'll fuckin' faze ya," he countered, pushing himself to his feet and going over to grab a grease rag from the table he'd been cooking on.

He wiped his nose and chin where the blood had poured down his face. Then he walked over to her chair, grabbing it by one arm and yanking it back upright. It wobbled a bit and he watched as she sank her painted black nails into the plastic arms of the chair, her hands gripping them tight even as she glared up at him. The paint on her nails chipped and her nails left little crescent-shaped marks in the cheap plastic of the flimsy lawn chair.

"Oops!" he taunted, "Guess I don't know my own strength."

She lashed out at him with her foot, catching him hard in the family jewels and he grunted in pain, doubling over and gasping for air.

"Oops! Guess I've got Turrets," she retorted, "Or is it Restless Leg Syndrome?"

He swallowed hard and stood straight before nodding.

"All right," he said, "If yer not gonna fuckin' behave, I'll knock yer ass out again and take ya home."

She gave him a smug little smirk and told him, "Go ahead. Fuckin' try me."

He reached into the pocket of his coveralls and eased out his Bowie knife. She eyed the blade and cocked one dark brow at him. Her eyes didn't widen with fear. She didn't cower or beg. She just cocked that brow at him and gave him a completely unimpressed expression.

"So help me _God_, Mac," she warned him, "You fuckin' cut me with that thing and I'll leave you in a puddle of your own fuckin' tears. You think a broken nose is so bad? That's _nothin'_ compared ta what I _could_ do ta you."

"Sure talk a big fuckin' game, dontcha?" he sneered.

"Maybe if you _respected_ women, ya wouldn't hafta fuckin' kidnap 'em, Mac!" she spat.

His spine stiffened and his nostrils flared in anger. Before he knew what he was doing, he'd backhanded her, his knuckles colliding with her cheek to leave an angry, red imprint there on her face.

She just narrowed those hazel eyes and opened that sassy little mouth again to taunt, "What's the matter, Mac? Truth hurt?"

"_Bitch!_ I'll _show_ ya fuckin' 'hurt'!" he snarled, reaching out to grab her by the hair.

But that was a mistake. She went from a taunting bitch to a vengeful banshee in 2.5 seconds, shrieking and thrashing wildly in the chair. She lashed out at him with her feet even as she bucked and flailed. He had to tighten his grip on her hair to even keep a hold of her. He lifted her up off the ground by her hair, thinking that it would calm her down a bit. But she only struggled worse.

"Let _go_!" she shrieked, "Don't you fucking _touch_ my hair!"

One of her feet connected with his shin and he grunted. Her other one met his groin again and he wheezed.

"Stop it! _Stop_ it!" she shouted, "Let _go_ of me!"

"Stop yer fuckin' thrashin'!" he snarled, trying to put some space between her flailing feet and his body.

"_LET GO!"_ she cried at the top of her lungs, startling him a bit.

He jerked his head back as if she'd just slapped him and he just stared at her for a couple minutes.

Ziva was sniffling quietly, her makeup running down her face as big, fat tears rolled down her cheeks. Her jaw was clenched tight and she was giving him the dirtiest fucking glare he'd ever seen.

"_Let_… _Go_…" she demanded in a voice that was so calm and quiet it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Mac carefully eased her chair back down onto the floor of the cave. He slowly untangled his fingers from her hair and eased his hand away from the long, wavy, jet-black locks. His eyes never left the little hellcat.

"You can slap my face. You can bite me. You can spank me. You can kick me or knock me out or drag me around. But you _don't_ fuckin' pull my hair. Not _ever_," she informed him, those hazel eyes narrowed into tiny little slits as she glared at him, "You _ever_ pull my hair again and I'll tie you to a fuckin' bed, beat you with a fuckin' baseball bat, and leave ya for dead. Are we clear?"

_Well_… Apparently she didn't like to have her hair pulled. He'd smacked her, he'd decked her a good one, and he'd backhanded her. He'd knocked her chair over. He'd grabbed her by the chin. He'd spat insults at her all fucking day. And nothing had fazed her. But, by damn, he'd brought tears to those eyes when he'd grabbed her by the hair and he'd really brought out her inner hellcat.

"Ya don't want me ta pull yer fuckin' hair? Then ya fuckin' do what I say, ya crazy ass bitch," he snapped, pointing at her, "Now ya sit the fuck still while I untie ya. Ya lash out at me again and I'm gonna yank that fuckin' hair right outta yer goddamn head."

He saw her dig her nails into the arms of the chair again and his brows rose as the black paint on her nails chipped even further and a few pieces fell to the floor. Her nails left another set of marks in the plastic covering the arms of the chair and he knew that there were going to be little half-moon shaped claw marks all over the arms of that damn chair by the time she got through with it.

"You're one _stupid_ son of a bitch," she spat, "I've already nailed ya in the nuts twice. You really wanna go for a third time? Maybe if you're lucky, ya won't be able ta reproduce by the time I'm done with ya. God knows the world doesn't need any fuckin' mini-Macs runnin' around."

He sneered at her but he knew it was the truth. Just like he knew that he could never handle having any fucking kids. He'd either kill them or he'd kill the bitch they belonged to. He didn't have the fucking patience for that shit.

"God ain't here," he pointed out, "And even if he was, he wouldn't show ya any fuckin' mercy."

Mac wasn't exactly a fan of God. If the big man _did_ exist, he'd never dealt Mac any mercy over the years. Nor had he spared any sympathy for Mac.

Mac bent over to retrieve his knife, which had fallen to the floor when she'd started thrashing like a fucking wild coon that was caught in a trap. He cut her right wrist free, surprised when she sat completely still for him, and then reached out to cut the rope holding her left one tied to the chair, his crystal blue orbs trained on her the whole time.

She cocked one brow at him and then held both hands up to show him that she wasn't going to lash out at him. Slowly, she reached out towards him and he watched her hand the whole time, watching as it went for the front of his coveralls. He'd thought that she might try to unzip them but was surprised when she fisted her tiny hand in the navy colored material and gave a sharp tug, bringing him closer to her until their noses were just a hair's breadth apart.

She looked him _right_ in the eye and stated, "I can play the willing little victim here, Mac. I can be as sweet as a fuckin' angel or worse than the Devil himself. I can be as fuckin' bad as you want me ta be. But don't you sit there and expect me ta just fuckin' take it if you're gonna humiliate me or try ta force me into doin' somethin' I don't want to. I had plans before my car broke down and you fuckin' kidnapped me, ya know? You can be rough with me. You can call me all the filthy words you wanna. But don't you fuckin' think for even a _second_ that I'm your bitch. You don't own me. _No_ one owns me. And no man ever _will_ own me. I'm gonna go along with this and not fight ya _too_ bad because it's the most damn excitement I've had for a while. But don't you think that you can control me if I don't _want_ ta be controlled."

His brows rose at that and she crushed her mouth against his before he had the chance to get a witty retort out of his mouth, her tongue sliding right into his open mouth and teasing his tongue. She captured it between those full, sensual lips and began to suck greedily at it. Her other hand came up to sift her fingers through his hair before fisting in the shaggy, brown locks as a fight for dominance ensued. Mac won and she submitted with a throaty moan.

When she eased back from the kiss, they were both panting.

"Now…" she told him, "Take me home and fuck me."

"Now listen here," he started, "Yer not the one callin' the fuckin' –,"

She rolled her eyes and interrupted him, replying, "Yes, yes. I fuckin' know. 'I'm not the one callin' the fuckin' shots here.' We _both_ know you wanna fuck me. So get it over with already."

His brows rose at that. He just might have to change his plans with this bitch. She needed to learn that_ he_ was the dominant one and _she_ was supposed to submit to _him_. She wasn't going to get away with bossing him around. That was for _damn_ sure. He wouldn't fucking stand for that shit.

He narrowed his eyes at her and she cocked one dark brow at him. She brought her foot down to tease the crotch of his coveralls with the top of her foot and, much to his dismay, his cock was quick to respond, twitching in his coveralls and starting to perk up.

"Now tell me you don't want it," she insisted, calling him out on his reaction.

He heaved a big sigh and rolled his eyes at her before backing away and pushing himself to his feet. She was quick to push herself up from the chair and held her wrists out to him, nodding towards the cuffs that he'd dropped onto the floor during their previous scuffle.

"I'll be glad when ya fuckin' crash. Maybe then ya won't be so fuckin' crazy," Mac mumbled as he bent over to pick up the cuffs.

"Mmm… Hey, Mac?" she purred.

He couldn't help but peek up at her when she purred at him with that husky voice of hers.

"While you're down there…" she teased, one of her hands coming down to gently fist his hair and guide his face closer to the crotch of her shorts.

She ground her hips towards his face in a blatant invitation and he glared up at her. He didn't fucking appreciate the gesture.

She rolled her eyes and sighed, "Right. Right. _'You're_ the one in charge here.' What is it with men and not wanting to eat pussy? I mean is it honestly _that_ fuckin' bad? I'm not opposed ta suckin' a dick. I'll be the first ta admit it. But will a man fuckin' reciprocate? _Fuck_ no!"

He cocked one brow at her. So she either hadn't had her pussy eaten or she'd been with men that didn't like eating pussy. Either way, he wasn't one of those men. He _loved_ eating pussy. But he only did it for those women that _deserved_ it. Or those women that thought they were too fucking good for him and he wanted to make their bodies betray them. They thought it was just _so_ taboo to feel pleasure when some "fucking redneck tweaker" teased them to arousal. _Well_… He'd made them fucking cum just to spite them.

"I don't fuckin' eat pussy unless the bitch deserves it," he informed her, standing up straight again, "She's gotta fuckin' prove that she's worthy of it. Or she has ta think that it's dirty and disgusting ta feel pleasure when I'm the one dishin' it out. Then I make her cum just ta spite her, the fuckin' bitch."

As Mac clicked the cuffs into place around Ziva's tiny wrists, he couldn't deny that the rope burns that marked the skin of her wrists made his dick harden a bit.

"It's a fuckin' shame," she said, shaking her head, "A woman's a _lot_ more likely ta reciprocate if a man goes down first."

He cocked his head to one side. He'd never heard that before. He wondered if there was actually any truth to it.

"And, if a woman _still_ doesn't wanna give a man head after he's eaten her out, then either he wasn't very good at it, she might prefer women instead, or she just doesn't like ta suck cock. Or maybe she thinks she's too _good_ ta suck cock. Fuck I don't know. Some bitches are real fuckin' snooty," she commented.

He'd come across his fair share of uppity bitches. Those were always the least challenging. He always grew bored with them quicker than the rest of his victims. They didn't want to suck cock. Didn't want to talk dirty to him. Didn't want to take it up the ass. What the fuck were they good for anyway? The only pleasure he got from those women was making them cum against their will, proving to them that _he_ controlled their body, their pleasure, their climax. He showed them just how weak and helpless they were. Then, after their body had betrayed them and they'd finally been forced to face the fact that they couldn't even control their own body, he killed them. After all, they'd served their purpose and were of no use to him after that. When he'd finished playing with his toys, he disposed of them.

Ziva looked up at him and gave him a sly little grin before questioning, "You gonna make me walk on my bare little feet?"

"I'm not gonna fuckin' carry ya, bitch," he snapped.

She rolled her eyes at him and inquired, "Not even a piggyback?"

He narrowed his eyes just slightly at her and answered, "Not even."

"_Fine_. Fine," she sighed, "Then lead the way, Master Mac."

He couldn't fight the tiny grin that curled the corner of his lips upward at that comment. He liked that. Master Mac. It made him sound powerful, like he owned her, like she was his slave. And, in a sense, she was. She was his little plaything and, by damn, he'd do whatever he damn well pleased with her, whether she liked it or not.

"I don't fuckin' _think_ so," he stated, "_You_ go first. I don't fuckin' trust ya."

She rolled her hazel eyes at him and retorted, "What the fuck ever. _I'm_ the one in cuffs, not you. So how the fuck am I supposed ta do anything?"

"Yer a sneaky little bitch," he accused, pointing at her.

She cocked one dark brow at him and hinted, "I thought ya said I was stupid?"

He drew a deep breath in through his nose and heaved a big sigh but didn't say another word about the matter. Instead, he reached out with both hands to turn her around and gave her a little shove, his big hand pressing firmly against her back.

She plodded along in front of him, her tiny feet taking careful steps across the cave floor until she met the tunnel. She balked once she reached the mouth of the tunnel, refusing to take another step no matter how hard he shoved at her.

"It's fuckin' pitch black, Mac," she pointed out, "You know this place inside and out. I don't. And I'm fuckin' clumsy. You _really_ want me ta go and get myself killed before you've even had your fun with me?"

Well, when she put it that way, no.

He gave a low little growl, voicing his displeasure at her defiance, and bent down, bringing one arm behind her neck and the other behind the back of her knees.

He hoisted her up into his arms and sneered, "Fuckin' high maintenance bitch I swear!"

"High maintenance my ass!" she retorted, "And you'd best be fuckin' careful! You smack my head off a goddamn wall and, so help me _God_, Mac, I'll take it out on your balls!"

He didn't fucking doubt it. So, even while he was tempted to knock her ass out again just to shut her the fuck up and make his night a little easier, he carried her carefully through the tunnel and out into the dark desert of the canyons.

He set her down as soon as they were out of the cave and she started right over for his truck without hesitation. His brows rose at that. Any other bitch would've bolted. They would've tried to make a run for it. But not this bitch. It made him wonder if maybe she was planning something.

"I can get the handle of the door open myself," she informed him, "But I don't know how the fuck I'm gonna be able ta climb up there without any help. I'm a short shit, in case you hadn't noticed, and your truck's got a lift kit on it."

He stomped a foot on the ground, sending up a cloud of dust, and growled in frustration. And the bitch had the fucking nerve to laugh at him. She giggled up a storm as she watched him throw his little tantrum, storming over to her and yanking the passenger side door of his beat up old red Chevy open and grabbing her by the sides. He hauled her up off the ground and set her down none-too-gently on the passenger seat before slamming the door behind her and sulking around to the driver's side of the truck, grumbling up a fucking storm.

He climbed right into the truck and dug into the pocket of his coveralls to pull out his tin. He popped it open and stuffed a finger into the red powder before lifting it up to coat his gums with his favorite drug of choice. He'd _sure_ as shit need it if he had to deal with her sorry ass for the rest of the night!

He slid the tin back into his pocket and waited a few seconds. Then he ran his tongue over his gums and took a deep breath, tipping his head back and letting the adrenaline rush through his body as the rush started to set in. _that_ was the good shit. There was _nothing_ a good swipe of his precious meth and a good piece of ass couldn't cure. And he'd have _both_ tonight.

Mac's head snapped up when he felt something rubbing at the crotch of his coveralls. He glanced down and discovered that it was a tiny hand. He looked over to find Ziva in the middle seat of the truck, a pout curling at those full, sensual lips.

"This would be a _hell_ of a lot easier if you were wearin' jeans, Mac," she pointed out, her warm breath fanning over his ear and making his cock perk up a bit more, "But I can make do."

He opened his mouth to spout something off at her but a groan spilled from his lips as he felt her tiny hand wrap around his dick over the cotton material. He grunted as she gave him a firm squeeze and began to work her fist up and down the length of his cock over his coveralls.

"Ya should be sittin' over there in the fuckin' passenger seat," he nearly groaned out as she brought that sinful little mouth down to catch his earlobe between her teeth.

She sucked and nibbled, voicing a husky little purr as she squeezed his dick again.

"Mackie, I can't wait 'til we get back ta your place," she murmured into his ear just before her tongue slid up over it and she gave a long, slow breath that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and his cock rise to full attention, "I want you ta fuck me now. _Right_ here."

His eyes rolled back into his head as she snaked that wicked tongue _into_ his ear and wiggled it, spilling a quiet little moan into his ear as she did. She eased her tongue back out and his eyes drifted shut. She was working that tiny hand up and down on his shaft over his coveralls, holding it firmly and dealing out little squeezes on occasion. He grunted, his hips rocking up off the seat to encourage her to continue her motions.

She nipped at the rise of his ear and practically growled, "I want it _so_ fuckin' bad… You gonna give it to me, Big Mac?"

"Oh I'm gonna fuckin' give it to ya," he assured her as he twisted in his seat, turning to face her.

"_Ooooo_!" she cried, those hazel eyes lighting up with excitement as a huge grin stretched across her face.

She started to climb into his lap but he grabbed her by the hips and practically threw her onto her back on the seat there in the cab of his truck.

"You stay _right_ fuckin' there," he ordered as he reached for the zipper of his coveralls, giving her a pointed glare in the hopes that she'd actually listen to him for once that night.

She reached down for the button of her shorts even as he slid the zipper of his coveralls down. He yanked the sleeves down his arms and shoved the material down to his hips before turning to face forward in the driver's seat again. He arched his hips up off of the seat and pushed the coveralls down to his ankles. He heard her tugging at her shorts and growling in frustration just before he heard the button pop right off and go flying down onto the floorboards. She yanked at the zipper even as she arched her hips, trying to wriggle her way out of her shorts despite the handcuffs on her wrists.

She spread her legs just as he turned to face her again, voicing a low growl to display her displeasure with the fact that she couldn't seem to shove her shorts down all that easily.

"Dammit, Mac!" she snarled, "A little help here?"

"Moody fuckin' bitch," he spat even as his big hands went out to yank the shorts down her long, slender legs.

He loved those legs already. They were deeply-tanned from hours spent out in the sun and they were toned, firm with muscle. He couldn't _wait_ to have them wrapped around his waist, to feel her calves pressing at his back and her heels digging into his ass as he thrust into that pussy.

He threw her shorts down onto the floorboards and then returned his attention to Ziva.

His brows rose sky high as his eyes landed on that siren red, lacy thong that she'd been wearing underneath her shorts. It was one of those damn see-through things that revealed smooth skin underneath it, except for a small, upside-down triangle of dark curls that she kept neatly trimmed above her folds. His cock twitched in his boxers at the sight that transparent little thong displayed for his greedy eyes.

"Mac!" she scolded, making him jump slightly as he was jerked out of his thoughts.

His head snapped up and he looked at her, finding that the expression on her face was one of pure impatience.

Now that he'd seen the goods, he could _totally_ understand her irritation. He was just as eager as she was or he wouldn't even be allowing her to snap at him like she was. Not only that but he would've made her wait until he got her back to his place if he hadn't really wanted to bury himself balls deep inside of her. She was lucky he was really Jonesing for a good fuck or she would've been in some _serious_ fucking trouble for talking to him like that. But, with his cock doing a little fucking happy dance in his boxers in its anticipation to dive right into her pussy, he wasn't _about_ to deny himself. Fuck he'd been fighting with his raging testosterone all damn day!

"Get that goddamn thing off of me," Ziva demanded, "And I don't care whether you fuckin' rip it or not."

He cocked one brow at her. Usually bitches chewed his ass for tearing up their panties.

"You wanna keep it?" she questioned, cocking one dark brow at him.

He hadn't really thought about it but, now that the offer was out there, he decided that he _did_ want to keep it for later. He could add it to his little collection back at home.

Mac nodded his head and she told him, "Fine. But it's _gotta_ come off. And so do those fuckin' boxers."

She gave a nod in the direction of the plain, white, cotton boxers he was wearing, the ones that his cock had managed to find its way out of since he'd forgotten to fasten the button after his last piss break.

She bit her bottom lip as her eyes fastened to his dick, her brows rising as she purred, "I'm s_ure_ as shit not gonna complain about _that_. And I think he's just as eager as she is."

She arched her hips up off of the seat to emphasize her last sentence and he was quick to reach down for the thin straps holding the tantalizing piece of lace up on her hips. He slid the thong down those long, slender legs and brought it up to bury his nose in the crotch of it and breathe in her scent. His eyes drifted shut as her scent filled his nostrils. It was the best fucking pussy he'd ever smelled. He didn't know if it was because he'd been wanting to fuck her all day or if she just had a more appealing scent than the other women he'd been with in the past. He wondered if her pussy felt as heavenly as it smelled. And that was something he was _quite_ eager to find out.

He crammed the lacy little garment into one of the pockets of his coveralls and then tucked his cock back into his boxers before shoving them down to his knees. He tugged her up into a seated position and jerked her wife beater up over her head before tearing her bra right down the middle to expose those big titties, relieved to discover that she hadn't been wearing a push-up bra. She'd filled those cups to the brim and still spilled over a bit. And her nipples were already starting to perk up for him.

"Whatcha want, Mackie?" Ziva asked him, licking her lips as her eyes roamed down his body to land on his cock again, "Ya want my mouth or my pussy?"

"Is that even a fuckin' question?" he retorted as he pushed her back down onto the seat of his truck.

She actually laughed at that and he was quick to cover her body with his own, groaning at the way her tiny body yielded to his larger one. Those ample, well-rounded breasts cushioned his firm chest, her thighs spread wide to accommodate his narrow hips, and the heat of her wet pussy greeted his cock in the best possible way. Hell it practically rolled out a little welcome mat for him, those soft, dark curls padding the space between his pelvis and hers. He sure as shit wouldn't be letting her shave those in the future. It made for a softer landing.

As soon as he was in place, his hand slipping in between them to take his cock and guide it right to her hot, wet, eager entrance, she brought her legs up around his waist, crossing them behind his back and trapping him against her body. Those legs were strong, holding him right up against her and refusing to let him go. Her calves pressed against his back, her heels resting over his firm ass cheeks, and she brought her arms up over his head to bring her cuffed wrists up behind his neck. One of her hands sifted her fingers through his hair and yanked him down for a hungry kiss. Her tongue fought his for dominance, even more aggressive than their previous couple of kisses back in the cave, and she captured his tongue between those full, sensual lips, sucking greedily at it as she moaned into his mouth and ground her hips up against his, trying to goad him into burying himself inside of her.

Mac's hands found her thighs, his long, thick fingers gripping them tight and sliding down to fill themselves with her ass, which he was pleased to discover was just as ample and well-rounded as her tits. He got a firm grip on her and grunted, his hips giving a harsh thrust. She spilled a sharp, throaty moan into his mouth as he practically impaled her on his length, her pussy clenching around his shaft a couple times at the sudden intrusion. She was so fucking tight and feeling her clamp down around his cock literally sucked the air right out of his fucking lungs. He peered down at her, his crystal blue orbs filled with awe.

She tipped her head back, her lips pulling back from her teeth and her hazel eyes fluttering shut as she sucked a breath in through her teeth. The little hiss she made, accompanied by the fact that her inner walls were _damn_ tight around his dick, informed him that she hadn't had a man as big as he was inside of her yet. He was stretching her, filling her to the brink. And she fit him like a fucking glove. But the way she bit her bottom lip and rocked her hips up to meet his, sliding him the rest of the way inside, and the way her nails raked at his scalp told him that she liked it.

The raven-haired hellcat didn't wait for him to set the pace. Instead, she eased her hips away from his before rocking them up to meet his again, pressing at his ass with her heels even as she arched her back to press those large breasts up into his chest.

"_Fuck_, Mac!" Ziva cursed, "Oh _God_…"

He growled, quickly taking charge of the situation and regaining control as he picked up a quick, hard, merciless pace. She gripped his hair tighter and let loose a deep, husky moan for him as he angled his hips, the head of his broad cock slamming into that rough, spongy patch along her upper wall even as his hips slammed into her clit.

"Yes! _Yes_!" she praised, arching her back and tipping her head back again, "_Ohhh yes_!"

She was a fucking loud bitch but he couldn't deny the fact that he'd never heard moans that fucking sexy. The bitches in the porn industry had _nothing_ on this little raven-haired vixen.

Mac's gaze landed on her exposed throat and found that he just couldn't resist. He leaned down to sink his teeth into the spot where her shoulder met her neck, snarling as his teeth pierced the soft, tender skin there and the tangy, metallic taste of her blood flooded his senses. The shout she voiced for him assured him that she loved the way the pain mixed with the pleasure. Her nails raked over his scalp again and he groaned against her skin.

He swirled his tongue over the wound, lapping at the crimson blood that flowed out of the bite mark he'd left there. Fuck hickeys. He wanted to mark her well enough that she'd be left with his little souvenir for _weeks_. When he finally eased his head back, Ziva was quick to lean up, dealing a sharp little nip to his cheek before bringing her mouth to his ear, her hot breath fanning over his sensitive skin.

"_Mmmmm_…" she moaned, "You're _so_ fuckin' bad, Mackie. I fuckin' _love_ it."

He couldn't fight the crooked little smirk that curled at his thin lips at that and she ran her tongue up over his ear. She spilled a gasp right into his ear, all 10 of her nails raking over his scalp as he grunted, his hips giving a sharp buck at the sensation of that hot, wet muscle working over his ear.

"Ah!" she cried, her heels digging deeper into his ass even as she tried to coax him into a slightly faster pace, "Mmm… _fuck_, Mac!"

Mac brought one of his hands down to rest it on the seat of the truck while his other one held the back of her thigh, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as he thrust harder, quickening his pace a little as he slammed into her. She gasped, her hips stuttering against his own as the broad head of his cock rammed into that rough, spongy patch that was buried deep inside of her, along her upper wall.

Her hands fisted in his hair and she gave a slight tug as she tipped her head back, a long, throaty moan spilling from those full, sensual lips as the pleasure coursed through her body.

"Mac! Oh! Oh _fuck_! Yes! Oh _yes_!" the little raven-haired siren shouted, "Oh you fuck me _so_ good! Come on, you dirty little fucker… Mmmmm… Oh! Harder! Fuck me harder! Don't you fuckin' hold back on me."

Mac's brows hiked up his forehead and he looked down at her, finding those hazel eyes growing darker as they peered up at him. Her thighs gripped him tight, her heels egging him on. Hell he'd already been fucking her right into the damn seat of his truck! He'd never been tender with his victims. He wasn't one to take it easy on them. He fucked them hard and he didn't hesitate to mark them with his hands or his mouth. Ziva had been no exception tonight. And she wanted it _harder_?

"Ya want it harder, ya dirty little bitch?" he asked her.

"Oh _yes_!" she cried, nodding her head at him even as he felt her inner walls started to flutter around him.

He gasped and she gave him a wicked little grin, inquiring, "Like that?"

"Ya fuckin' did that on purpose?" he questioned.

She nodded her head and said, "I know a few tricks."

He gave her a devilish grin and retorted, "So do I, bitch."

He angled his hips, allowing himself to thrust against her in a different position, the head of his dick prodding at that sweet spot inside of her, which was now swelling, thanks to his punishing thrusts. His pelvis rubbed over her clit instead of pressing against it, and she voiced a loud gasp of surprise, her eyes widening and her nails scraping at his scalp.

"Fuckin' toldja," he pointed out.

She narrowed her eyes at him and replied, "Challenge accepted. We'll see who cums first."

He felt her clench tight around his shaft and then loosen before repeating the process a few more times, her smirk stretching further and further across her face even as she scratched lightly at his scalp with her nails. His hips jerked, desperate to feel more of the maddening sensation of her spasming around his cock, and she cried out in pleasure, arching her hips and her back at the same time. He felt her nipples, so rigid and puckered to display just how fucking aroused she was, rubbing against his firm, cotton-clad chest.

He leaned down, burying his face in her neck and voicing a growl of pleasure as he sank his teeth into her soft, silky skin. He didn't bite hard enough to pierce the skin this time but he sucked hard enough that he knew he'd leave a nice little hickey behind, just another mark on her body to prove that he'd dominated her, that he'd possessed her. She gave a tug at his hair and voiced her approval with a whine.

"Yer such a filthy fuckin' whore," he accused, his hot breath fanning over her ear.

"Yes!" she was quick to agree.

The sweat was dripping down his body, pooling between them as his hips smacked into hers.

"You ever been fucked this good?" he prompted.

"No!" came her immediate answer.

His lips twitched upward into a cocky, crooked little smirk, and she gasped, her legs pressing him even closer, wrapping around him even tighter.

"Fuck! Mac!" she whimpered, the sound coming out as a broken plea.

"Yer gonna lose at yer own fuckin' game, ya dirty little slut," he taunted, using his hands to guide her movements, tugging her closer before pulling her away even as he gave sharp, calculated thrusts against her.

"_Damn_ you!" Ziva cursed him, glaring up at him with those hazel eyes.

He just smirked at her and she changed tactics, giving hard, rhythmic contractions of her inner muscles around his shaft, squeezing his dick before releasing it. The fluttering of her muscles might have been intentional but his cock didn't know the difference. Mac snarled as leaned down to sink his teeth into her right breast, sinking his teeth in deep until he heard her moan of pleasure drift off into a growl of pain. She yanked firmly at his hair even as he lapped the blood from her flesh.

"You dirty fuckin' prick," she practically purred as he used one hand to reach down between them and swirl a couple blunt, calloused fingertips over that sensitive little bundle of nerves between her wet folds.

Hell she was so fucking wet for him that her body was making rude noises, her pleasure and arousal undeniable to his hyper-vigilant senses.

He opened his mouth to spout something off at her but she was quick to lean up and crush her lips to his, her open mouth eagerly meeting his. She voiced a breathy little whine into his mouth and he swallowed it down, reveling in the way her tiny little body began to tense up beneath him and the fact that her skin was growing hot to the touch. She was nearing her climax and she'd be a liar if the tried to deny it.

Mac caught the little nub between his fingertips and gave it a pinch, grinning from ear to ear as he heard her gasp and felt her heels scramble over his ass. Her back arched and those big titties pressed up into his chest as her hands tugged at his hair. But she wasn't done fighting yet.

She caught his bottom lip in between her sharp little teeth and gave him a harsh nip, drawing his blood for the third time that night. She sucked greedily at it and gripped him tight between those strong thighs, her feet pressing against his firm ass cheeks even as she rocked her hips hard against his, essentially trapping him right up against her body and taking control of the situation.

He snarled and jerked his head away from her, his piercing, blue eyes narrowing as he glared down at her.

"_Not_ gonna fuckin' happen," he informed her, "Yer _not_ gonna fuckin' make me go first."

Usually Mac wouldn't let a bitch have hers until after he'd gotten his fill of her. Hell, he _refused_ to let them cum unless he thought they deserved it or if he wanted to turn their own body against them because they thought they were too good for a "sick psycho" like him. He _always_ got his first. And now he was telling her that she wasn't going to make him cum before he got her off? What the fuck was this bitch _doing_ to him? Everything about her was fucking backwards. Everything about her challenged him, excited him. He did things he'd never done, said things he'd never said, _felt_ things he'd never felt. She brought out his competitive side, brought out his darker side, brought out the primal, possessive side of him.

She gave him a wicked little grin that made a shudder of excitement and anticipation run down his spine just before she brought her mouth to his ear and murmured, "Fuckin' _watch_ me."

She clenched those inner muscles tight around his cock, fluttering them even as she ran her tongue up over his ear. She gave a long, slow breath against his ear and a shudder ripped through his large frame as his balls started to draw up, growing heavier as they filled with his seed until they hung like rocks between his fucking thighs.

"Mmmmm… Come on, Mackie. Fuckin' do it, you dirty little fucker. Cum for me. You know I want it. So give it to me," she coached, nibbling at his earlobe before nipping at the rise of his ear, "Cum _so_ fuckin' hard for me."

She brought her hands down to his shoulders and sank her nails in, raking her nails as far down his back as she could reach with the cuffs restricting her movements.

And he couldn't help it. He just couldn't fight it.

"_Fuck!_" he roared, his head flying back as he shivered, his hips jerking erratically as he spilled himself inside of her, his back bowing with the force of his orgasm.

And he came not a second too soon, his orgasm spurring her into her own. He felt her sink those nails deep into his skin even as her inner walls quaked around his cock and her thighs shook around his waist. Her breath hitched in her throat for a few seconds before a sharp, throaty moan coursed up from her throat.

Shit he'd never come so fucking hard in all his life! His jaw clenched shut tight, his face scrunching up as the most intense high he'd ever experienced rushed through his system, rolling over him like a fucking tidal wave and sweeping him under the current of pure bliss that filled his body. He was practically pulsing with pleasure by the time he'd emptied himself inside of her and his hips had stopped bucking. He slumped over on top of her, burying his face in the side of her neck as he basked in the after-glow. His breath was sawing in and out of him and it was a struggle to even pull air into his lungs, his body shivering as the aftershocks rolled through his body.

He realized two things then. One, they hadn't used a condom so he hoped like _hell_ that she was on the fucking pill. And two, she'd been the _first_ woman to ever make him cum before he was ready to. She'd won. She'd defeated him. And _no_ bitch had ever beaten him at _anything_.

"Yer a fuckin' cheater," he grumbled as he started to regain his breath and slow his racing heartbeat.

"And _you're_ a sore fuckin' loser," she replied.

"Ah, bite me," he mumbled into her neck.

She sank her teeth into his cheek, dealing him an almost affectionate little nip before inquiring, "When are you ever gonna fuckin' learn? I won't back down from a fuckin' challenge, Mac."

"Fuck you," he replied.

"You just did," she pointed out, nuzzling lightly at his temple with the tip of her nose.

"Shut the fuck up," he told her.

She just laughed before he felt her body completely relax. She turned her head to rest her cheek against his, a smile curling at those full, sensual lips, and gave a throaty little purr of contentment.

"We _really_ oughta do that more often," she sighed, "I'd be lyin' if I said that wasn't the best fuck I've ever had."

His lips curled up into a wicked little smirk and he dealt her cheek a playful nip, growling against her skin, before informing her, "Well… Yer mine ta do with as I damn well please. So I'll be fuckin' that pussy at _least_ once a fuckin' day."

"Mmmm… I'm gonna need it more often than that, Mac," she informed him, "I'm a fuckin' greedy bitch."

He just chuckled at that and she insisted, "I'm fuckin' serious. I expect morning sex_ and_ goodnight sex. And that's if you're lucky and I don't demand it during your lunch break too."

His smirk only grew wider at that. She had _no_ fucking idea how insatiable his appetite for sex was. The more he learned about this bitch, the more he was starting to realize that he'd be keeping her around for a while.

** _=Walter=_ **

Walter Sanchez was at the Luna Mesa, wiping off the bar after the small group of regulars had stopped in for lunch, when Devon returned to the bar. Walter glanced over at the door when he heard it swing open and watched as his younger son walked in. Devon headed straight for one of the bar stools and took a seat.

Walter sauntered over as Devon glanced around the bar. When Devon realized that there wasn't anyone in the bar, he breathed a sigh of relief.

Walter's brows furrowed and he asked, "What's got you so tense, son? You sure left in a hurry earlier."

"There's gonna be trouble in Caineville," Devon answered.

Walter's frown deepened and he inquired, "What are you talking about?"

"That girl that moved into the old Mendocino place –," Devon started.

"Ah, Mariska?" Walter questioned, giving Devon a sly grin.

Devon shook his head and insisted, "Her name's not Mariska Rudaj. It's Dahlia Chevenandrova."

Walter's frown returned and he asked, "But why would she lie about her name?"

"Because she's in the most notorious gang in all of Los Angeles County," Devon replied.

Walter's dark eyes grew real wide and his brows hiked up his forehead before his eyes narrowed a bit.

"_Surely_ you must have her confused with someone else," Walter stated.

But his youngest son just shook his head and informed him, "I'm _sure_ it's Dahlia. She's had her picture shown on TV more times than I can count. She's the leader of the Black Rose Rebellion. The guys she was with were her second and third in command, Chaz Mathers and Wick Ramsey."

"She's in a _gang_?" Walter asked in disbelief, his eyes narrowing even further.

Devon nodded and repeated, "The most notorious one in all of Los Angeles County."

Walter's brows wrinkled and he pressed, "Why would they leave Los Angeles to come here then?"

"Some pretty serious shit went down back in L.A. and the top 3 dogs had to get the hell outta dodge," Devon commented.

"And what exactly does 'some pretty serious shit' mean?" Walter prompted.

Devon shrugged and said, "I don't really know all the details yet. They're still investigatin' it and stuff. But the L.A.P.D. has been tryin' ta bring these guys down for the past 5 _years_ now. The problem is, they're a little too good at blackmailin' those that pose a risk to their operation. And, if they can't blackmail their enemies, they find their weaknesses and use them against them – family, friends, lovers, whatever it takes. If that doesn't work, they take 'em out. These guys are some pretty serious gangsters."

Walter's brows rose at that.

"And just what did they do back in Los Angeles?" Walter inquired.

"Shit! What _didn't_ they do?" Devon countered, shaking his head, "They weren't just some damn 'graffiti gang'. They were the _real_ fuckin' deal – guns, drugs, prostitutes, chop shop where they fixed up stolen cars to sell, street racin'. They did it _all_. But they didn't tolerate competition…"

Walter's eyes narrowed at that. It didn't take a damn rocket scientist to figure out what he was hinting at.

"Mac's been doing good lately," Walter pointed out, "And you and I _both_ know that Mac's usually behind on his orders and he's so goddamn impossible to keep on task. That boy's more trouble than his whore of a mother was, always as high as a fuckin' kite and as risky as a loose cannon."

Devon nodded in agreement and Walter sighed.

"They wouldn't pose a threat to either you or me, would they?" Walter questioned.

Devon shook his head and replied, "They don't know anything about your business with Mac. And they don't know that I know who they are."

Walter nodded at that. Good. At least he wouldn't have to worry about them coming after him or Devon.

"And Mac?" Walter asked.

Walter watched Devon closely as Devon gave a little cringe and replied, "If they find out what he cooks, I don't know. If they view him as competition, dad…"

Walter nodded. He didn't need to hear any more. He knew that Mac would do whatever he wanted, regardless of what Walter told him. Hell he'd never been one to stop and think about the risks involved with his actions and he never _would_ be. So, while Mac was his real money maker, Mac was usually a _real_ fucking liability. While he'd been doing well the past 3 weeks, keeping up on his orders and going to the shop every day when he wasn't cooking out at the cave, he'd slip up eventually. He always did. No matter how closely he was following Walter's orders at the moment, Walter knew that he'd really fuck up sooner or later, probably within the fucking week. His good behavior never lasted for more than a few days so it had been shocking as hell to see him flying straight for 3 whole weeks. But Walter would take advantage of his obedience as long as it would last.

"I told Mac that they were here in Caineville," Devon informed him.

"And?" Walter prompted.

"And he seems ta think he's bulletproof," Devon answered, "He doesn't seem ta think they're a serious threat."

Walter heaved another sigh and shrugged his shoulders, saying, "Then I guess that's Mac's problem."

Then an idea hit him. Maybe he could get this new gang to fill Mac's spot. Then he could finally be done with Mac's bullshit. It wouldn't be hard to find someone to replace his oldest son, considering his constant state of dysfunction.

"They won't work for anyone," Devon commented, almost as if he knew where Walter's thoughts were now heading, "And, if they're wronged, they won't give a person the chance to explain or reconcile with them. They just… make them disappear… forever. And, if they _are_ found, it's because the Rebellion _wants_ them to be found, ta scare others into compliance and submission or ta send a message to the people that person knows."

Walter gave a slow nod. Well, Mac would just have to fend for himself then. Walter had more important shit to worry about and it didn't involve Mac's sorry ass.

**Albanian Translations:**

_Babai? – _Father?

_Ah, Dahlia. Si është vajza ime foshnja? _– Ah, Dahlia. How is my baby girl?

_Duket se ne u përplas me disa telashe përsëri në Los Angeles._ – It seems we ran into some trouble back in Los Angeles.

_Çfarë lloj telashe?_ – What kind of trouble?

_E keqe e mjaftueshme që Wick, Chaz, dhe unë kam për të ikur nga Los Angeles dhe të gjejnë një vend për të hedhur të ulët derisa gjërat të hedhur mbi mbrapa në L.A._ – Bad enough that Wick, Chaz, and I had to flee from Los Angeles and find a place to lay low until things blow over back in L.A.

_Dhe pse nuk ju vijnë në Shqipëri, Dahlia im? Ju e dini se ju jeni gjithmonë të mirëpritur këtu. – _And why did you not come to Albania, my Dahlia? You know that you are always welcome here.

_Unë e di, baba. Por unë nuk duan të rrezikojnë autoritetet duke u përpjekur për të marrë dikush tjetër poshtë me ne, në qoftë se ata do të arrijnë të na gjeni. Unë nuk dua të sjellë probleme apo turp për familjen time._ – I know, father. But I don't want to risk the authorities trying to take anyone else down with us, if they DO manage to find us. I don't want to bring trouble or shame to my family.

_Dashuria e një baba-së nuk njeh turp.._ – A father's love knows no shame.

_Unë e di, baba._ – I know, father.

_Por ju jeni të sigurt? – _But you are safe?

_Po, po. Unë të na gjetur një shtëpi simpatik të vogël për ne për të qëndruar në një qytet të vogël rurale. Nuk ka asgjë për milje e milje. Dhe kushdo që përbën një kërcënim për të mbuluar tonë do të jenë të shpejt dhe në heshtje asgjësuar. Ne kemi marrë atë nën kontroll, baba. – _Yes, yes. I found us a charming little house for us to stay in a tiny rural town. There's nothing for MILES and miles. And anyone that poses a threat to our cover will be quickly and quietly disposed of. We've got it under control, father.

_Ah, kjo është vajza ime._ – Ah, that's my girl.

_Unë kam zbuluar se ju keni një motër atje në Shtetet e Bashkuara, moj e shtrenjta Dahlia._ – I have discovered that you have a sister there in the United States, my darling Dahlia.

_Me të vërtetë?_ – Really?

_Unë do të thotë atë me të vërtetë._ – I mean it truly.

_Kjo nuk është një tjetër një nga shaka tuaj të dehur, është ajo?_ – This isn't another one of your drunken jokes, is it?

_Jo, jo. Nëna më ka kontaktuar disa muaj më parë, ranting dhe cussing një stuhi se si unë kishte një vajzë dhe kurrë nuk e kishte shqetësuar për të dërguar ndonjëherë asaj një qindarkë për të mbështetur atë. Tha të vërtetën, ajo ka qenë gjithmonë një rrodhe._ _Doja të jetë i sigurt se fëmija ishte me të vërtetë e imja. Në fund të fundit, nëse ajo është vajza ime, kam kërkuar për të parë prova. Unë kam vetëm rezultatet përsëri dje. Ajo e imja. Ju duhet të shikoni foton e saj, Dahlia. Ajo duket aq shumë si ju. Të gjatë, me onde, korbi me ngjyrë të flokëve dhe të lëkurës thellë-tanned._ _Sytë e saj janë hazel. Nuk ka mohuar se ajo është me prejardhje shqiptare. Nuk ka dyshim se ajo është një Chevenandrova.– _No, no. The mother contacted me a few months ago, ranting and cussing up a storm about how I had a daughter and had never bothered to ever send her a penny to support it. Truth be told, she's always been a leech. I wanted to be sure that the child was really mine. After all, if she's my daughter, I wanted to see the proof. I just got the results back yesterday. She's mine. You should see her picture, Dahlia. She looks SO much like you. Long, wavy, raven-colored hair and deeply-tanned skin. Her eyes are hazel. There's no denying that she's of Albanian descent. There's no doubt that she's a Chevenandrova.

_Ku është ajo? Ku është motra ime foshnja? – _Where is she? Where is my baby sister?

_Tani për tani unë jam duke u përpjekur për të gjetur një mënyrë për të gjetur atë poshtë. Në fakt, unë jam duke e bërë një udhëtim të veçantë mbi të Shteteve të vetëm për të ndjekur e saj poshtë. Dhe unë jam duke e çuar djemtë me mua. Nëse ajo ka qenë në kujdesin e nënës së saj gjithë këto vite nuk ka thënë se çfarë lloj tmerret ajo e vuajtur nëpër._ _Zoti e di nëna e saj ishte një ferr i një kurvë egoiste, të interesuar vetëm në çështjet që fjalë veten. – _Right now I'm trying to find a way to track her down. In fact, I'm making a special trip over to the States just to track her down. And I'm bringing the boys with me. If she's been in her mother's care all these years there's no TELLING what kind of horrors she's suffered through. God knows her mother was one hell of a selfish bitch, only interested in matters that concerned herself.

_Babi, më tregoni se çfarë unë mund të bëj. – _Father, tell me what I can do.

_Ju vetëm të qëndrojë aty ku je, Dahlia ime. Unë nuk e di edhe ku ajo është ende. Unë nuk mund të shkojnë humbur vajza e vetme unë e di, tani mund unë? Unë kam nevojë për ju për të qëndruar aty ku ju jeni të sigurt. Kur ne të gjeni atë, unë do të lidhen me ju. – _You just stay where you are, my Dahlia. I don't even know where she is yet. I can't go losing the only daughter I know, now can I? I need you to stay where you're safe. When we find her, I'll contact you.

_Por, baba – _But, father

_Mos 'Por, baba 'mua. Unë kam nevojë për ju për të qëndruar vënë. Kur ne gjejmë atë, ne do të sjellë atë për të parë ju. Ju mendoni se vëllezërit e tu nuk janë të etur për të përmbushur e saj, si dhe?_ \- Don't 'But, father' me. I need you to stay put. When we find her, we'll bring her to see you. You think your brothers aren't eager to meet her as well?

_Ju të paktën do të më thoni emrin e saj? – _Will you at least tell me her name?

_Emri i saj është Ziva. – _Her name is Ziva.

_Sa e vjetër është ajo? – _How old is she?

_Ajo duhet të jetë kthyer 21 Maj. Ajo është vetëm nja dy vjet më të rinj se ju, Dahlia im. – _She should be turning 21 in May. She's just a couple years younger than you, my Dahlia.

_Më duhet të shkoj tani. Unë do t'ju kur kemi gjetur atë. Të dua, Dahlia tim ëmbël. – _I have to go now. I'll call you when we locate her. I love you, my sweet Dahlia.

_Unë të dua shumë, baba. Ajo ishte e bukur për të dëgjuar nga ju. – _I love you too, father. It was nice to hear from you.

**Lyrics from the Songs:**

_Going to Hell _by The Pretty Reckless

_You Call Me a Bitch Like It's a Bad Thing _by Halestorm

**The thank you notes got pushed to chapter 3 since I had to cut this chapter in half – it was fucking _huge_. And it might not have been a _totally _naked Mac, but it was at least a _partially _naked Mac. I figured it was sex, so you wouldn't care anyway. *winks* And Mac says, "If their panties are still dry, yer just gonna hafta fuckin' try harder next time."**


	3. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All will be revealed in due time, but this is a start.

**IN OTHER NEWS… I’ve been kicking around some ideas for a new Walking Dead story and I’ve actually got the whole first chapter plotted out in an outline. So, whenever my brain decides to cooperate with me, I’ll give Daryl some love too. He’s been brooding during my hiatus, silent but impatient. The thing I can’t figure out at this point is how I want to start it – the actual beginning has been dragging its heels and screaming obscenities at me for a week now, refusing to cooperate.**

**SOME OF YOU WANTED INFORMATION ON ORIGINAL CHARACTERS… Now some of you were asking about Wick and Chaz. I crafted those characters myself about a year ago. I thought them all out myself and my editor and chief-of-fucking-everything approved them so I’ve been writing them ever since – both by myself and co-writing with her. There will be more action from Wick and Chaz in this one – _no slash! _You’ll find out more about why Dahlia and her boys are in Caineville and you’ll get to see more interaction between Mac and Ziva in this one – which I’ve been told some of you were eager to see.**

**THANK YOU NOTES… Anyway, there’s a list of those that are near and dear to me in the thank you notes at the bottom. That list has gotten a _lot_ shorter – since _very_ few people decided to keep in contact with me while I’ve been on my forced hiatus. **

**REASON FOR ALBANIAN SPEECH IN PREVIOUS CHAPTER AND ENGLISH IN THIS ONE… Ivan prefers to use Albanian when speaking to a single person but, for meetings involving larger groups, he tends to use English so that it’s quicker and easier for them to understand. Since most of his sons live in the States and don’t speak Albanian often, I figured he would speak in English to them. If he were dealing with a group of his men there in Albania or his two sons from Albania, however, he would direct his conversation to them in Albanian. He can speak both languages fluently, though Albanian is his first language, and chooses which one to use based on the audience he is addressing. The sons he has in the States rarely ever speak the language of their homeland unless they think their conversation could possibly be traced – or if they don’t want anyone else to listen into their conversation. Hopefully this explains why Ivan was speaking to Dahlia in Albanian in the previous chapter but is speaking to his sons from the States in English – Dahlia actually prefers to have her conversations with him in his native tongue because it gives their discussions a more personal and intimate feel and she doesn’t have to worry about the others listening into her conversation because they don’t understand the language anyway.**

** Chapter 3: Revelations **

** **

** _–=Chaz=–_ **

** **

Chaz Mathers gazed over at Dahlia, his girlfriend of 5 years, as she lounged in the tub with his best friend and the man he shared his girlfriend with, Wick Ramsey. Dahlia had her eyes closed, her head tipped back against Wick’s broad chest as she relaxed in his arms. Chaz couldn’t help but smile as he sat on the floor of the upstairs bathroom, his head resting against the cabinet behind him.

Wick wasn’t the kind to be affectionate when it came to women. He never had been. But, by damn, he was with Dahlia. It was strange seeing him deal out little displays of affection and tenderness to their shared girlfriend when Wick had first started dating her too. Chaz honestly hadn’t expected it. Granted, Chaz had dated her for 2 years by then but both of the boys had started messing around with her together before finally talking about it. They’d spent a good 2 weeks hashing it out between the two of them, trying to figure out whether or not Dahlia would agree to their little plan. But she had and they’d both reaped the benefits since then. Still, had it been _any_ other woman, Chaz knew that Wick wouldn’t be tender or affectionate with her.

They’d both known Dahlia their whole lives. They’d grown up together, from the time they were just toddling around in diapers. Hell Dahlia’s mother had moved over to the States with her and her brother, right onto their street, and their mothers had taken her mother under their wing. The women had become the best of friends so it was only natural that their children had too. And, during all the time they’d spent together, Chaz had never_ once_ seen Wick deal out so much affection to one woman. He’d had short-term flings or one night stands, sure. But he never dealt the one night stands any affection in public and even his short-term flings were only dealt a few brief kisses or he’d drape his arm around their shoulders. And yet Dahlia had him wrapped around her pretty little fingers.

Wick pressed the occasional kiss to Dahlia’s cheek or jawline as his big hands lathered her all up, the delicious scent of pomegranates and cherries filling the bathroom. He started with her neck, slowly making his way down to her shoulders. Then he started in on first one arm, taking his time to massage the soap into her soft, silky skin. He made his way down and even washed her hand and fingers before starting in on the other arm. Once he was done with that one, he soaped up her breasts, slowly swirling his soapy fingers around the soft globes before cupping them in his big hands and squeezing them with his long, slender fingers. Chaz chuckled and shook his head as Dahlia moaned, arching her back to press her breasts more firmly into his best friend’s big hands.

After he’d finished washing up her chest, Wick moved down her stomach. Then he had her bring first one of those long, slender legs up so that he could wash her foot and her leg, clear up to her knee. He repeated the process with the other one before making the slow trek up her thighs, squeezing and massaging all the way even as he worked her shower gel into her deeply-tanned skin.

Chaz smirked as Dahlia bit that bottom lip and arched her hips towards Wick’s hand, prompting him to hurry the hell up.

“Now I haven’t gotten your back yet,” Wick pointed out.

“You _really_ wanna tease me after you saw Chaz’s punishment this afternoon?” she questioned.

Wick was quick to stop teasing her, bringing his mouth down to her ear and murmuring, “I suppose it can wait a bit.”

She sank those sharp little teeth even further into that full, pouty lower lip, rocking her hips as she felt Wick’s rough fingertips stroking exactly where she wanted them to. She brought one hand up and back to gently fist it in his hair even as her other hand gripped his thigh.

Chaz was always surprised by the fact that Wick was the rougher of the two men in the bedroom but he was the crazier and more carefree one of the two outside their sex life while Chaz was gentler and more sensual in the bedroom and as tough as nails outside of their sex life. It never ceased to amaze him as to how Dahlia could balance her time and energy evenly between the two of them.

“Hey,” Chaz spoke up, interrupting their little moment, “Before you two get really involved in anything there, I think we’ve been avoiding a pretty serious subject tonight.”

Wick eased his hand away from where it had been playing between Dahlia’s thighs and she gave a pout of epic proportions as he rested his hand on the side of the tub.

“Easy now…” Wick murmured softly, his voice rumbling right into her ear before he nuzzled at it and then pressed a kiss to her temple, “Once we hear Chaz out, _then_ we can have all the fuckin’ fun ya want, Dahl. Chazzie boy says it’s serious. And, if he’s lyin’, I’ll letcha kick his ass yourself.”

Dahlia nodded in agreement to his last statement and they both turned their attention to Chaz.

“I don’t know if Wick’s given it much thought yet,” Chaz stated, “But I sure as hell have. And, if I know ya even _half_ as well as I think I do, Dahl, I know you’re gonna be thinkin’ about this new sister of yours for the next few days. I’m not stupid. I know you’re not just gonna sit around and wait ta hear from your dad or one of your brothers about this. You’re gonna wanna do some diggin’ ta see what ya can find out about her. You’re gonna wanna track her down _yourself_. It doesn’t matter that your dad told ya ta stay put. Family is family. And family is the _top_ priority for Chevnandrovas. I don’t give a shit whether we’re supposed ta be in hiding or not. If you go after her, I’m goin’ with ya.”

“I second that,” Wick was quick to agree.

“But I wanna know what you’re thinkin’. I wanna know what’s goin’ on in that brilliant little mind of yours,” Chaz added, his hazel eyes fixed on Dahlia.

“_Babai_ has had _several_ women try to claim that he’s the father of their children. That’s nothing new. He usually doesn’t believe any of their bullshit claims. He doesn’t even bother checking into it. But if he checked into it this time… He must’ve actually thought that woman was telling the truth, or at _least_ that there was reason ta believe it _might_ be possible that he got her pregnant. He said that he had them run a DNA test, that he sent in a sample and he had the mother send one in too. He said he _just_ got the results from that test and a picture of the girl mailed back to him today. And there’s not a _doubt_ in his mind that she’s a Chevenandrova. _Babai _and the boys are going ta tear the country apart, turn it upside down, lookin’ for her. They won’t stop until they find her. I don’t doubt that. I just haven’t figured out whether I’m willing ta just sit on my ass and wait ta hear back from them while they search if I could be out there lookin’ for her too,” Dahlia replied.

Chaz and Wick both nodded.

Chaz knew that it was only a matter of time before she decided to do a little digging of her own. He knew that she’d try to find out whatever she could about this sister and that she’d try to decide whether or not she believed that the girl was really her sister. But, if she thought that there was even the _slightest_ chance that this girl was her sister, she wouldn’t just wait for the call. She wouldn’t just sit back and wait patiently to hear that her father and her brothers had found her sister. She’d want to go out looking for the girl herself. She’d want to track her down and ensure that she got to meet her sister in person.

“Well… If you decide ta go after her, Dahlia, you let us know,” Chaz insisted.

She nodded again and promised, “I will. I wouldn’t go without you boys. You know that.”

Wick wrapped his arms around her and gave her a squeeze, pressing a kiss to her cheek and murmuring something into her ear that Chaz couldn’t quite make out.

“Finish washin’ her up already and get the fuck outta there,” Chaz told his best friend, “I’m fightin’ a fuckin’ boner over here seein’ her naked in the fuckin’ tub.”

Wick and Dahlia both laughed at that and Wick teased, “And you still have some ass kissin’ ta do I’m sure.”

“Fuck you,” Chaz spat.

“_No_ thank you,” Wick was quick to retort, “Ya know I don’t fuckin’ swing that way.”

Chaz rolled his eyes at his friend and stated, “Hurry the fuck up and finish washin’ her up.”

Wick smirked at him and reached for her shower gel again, taking his sweet ass time and making sure to lather her up as slowly as possible, massaging the soap suds into her smooth, water-sluiced skin as he made his way over her shoulders and down her back. And he rinsed her off just as leisurely as he’d washed her up.

“You’ve gotta sleep sometime,” Chaz pointed out, “And when ya do, I’ll get even with your sorry ass.”

Wick just laughed and razzed, “Do you _really_ wanna start another prank war with me? Ya _know_ how the last one turned out.”

Chaz narrowed his hazel eyes at his best friend and gave a low growl.

“Boys, boys, boys,” Dahlia scolded gently, “There’s _plenty_ ta go around. Calm the fuck down. What is it with you two and your constant pissing matches? You’re bad enough when you’re competing against _each other_. But when another guy gets involved, _heaven_ help the poor bastard.”

She pushed herself up from the water and bent over to reach down and grab her towel, which had been laid out on the floor right beside the tub. This position granted Chaz a taunting view of her swaying breasts as she picked it up while also presenting Wick with an amazing view of her ass. She was quick to gasp and stand upright, turning her head to look back at Wick, whose lips were pulled up into a sly little smirk.

Dahlia reached back to rub at one ass cheek and Chaz chuckled. Wick must’ve nipped at her ass while she’d been bending over.

She cocked one raven-colored brow at Wick before unfolding her towel and placing one foot up on the side of the tub. She dried that leg first before stepping out onto the carpet with it and lifting her other leg to dry it next. Once she’d stepped completely out of the tub, she began drying the rest of her body off. But Chaz wasn’t about to wait for that.

He pushed himself up onto his feet and was quick to yank the towel from her grasp.

“Fuck the towel,” he told her, “I’ll dry ya off.”

He leaned down and laved his tongue up the crevice between her breasts, taking his time and making sure to catch every little drop of water on his tongue. He felt her fingers spear through his short, jet-black hair and smirked to himself. His large hands roamed down her back to find her ample ass cheeks, cupping them and hoisting her up onto his hips. She didn’t hesitate to bring her legs up, wrapping them tight around his waist as he carried her over to set her on the countertop there in the bathroom. He tugged her to the edge of the counter and ground himself against her, his denim-clad erection rubbing against her naked pussy.

She gasped, her eyes drifting shut, and he brought his mouth down to latch onto one of her puckered nipples. He sucked gently even as he brought one hand down between them, stroking his rough fingertips over her entrance while he used his other hand to unbuckle his belt. He popped the button on his jeans and slid the zipper down and his jeans pooled around his ankles. He was quick to kick out of them and he eased his hand away from her just long enough to wrap it around his boxer-clad cock, guiding it towards her entrance and positioning the broad head just right. He rocked his hips, prodding and nudging at her as he brought his mouth to her ear.

“You fuckin’ like that, Dahl?” he asked her, “See what ya do ta me? See how fuckin’ hard you’ve got me?”

She voiced a little whine and arched her hips towards his, her hands sliding beneath the waistband of his boxers and grasping his ass. She squeezed his firm ass cheeks and tugged, urging him closer.

“You want it, Dahl?” he questioned.

“Yes!” she answered.

“Whadda you want? Whaddya want me ta do ta you?” he prompted, his hand wrapping around his long, thick shaft and working the head up and down the length of her slit.

He could feel her pussy spilling that sweet cream for him and there was no denying that his cock was leaking for her either. The moisture seeped through the thin cotton of his boxers and he couldn’t help but groan, his nostrils flaring and his jaw clenching tight.

“Put her on the fuckin’ floor, man,” Chaz heard Wick say, making him turn his head to look over at his best friend.

Wick was climbing out of the tub and draining it.

“Why’s that?” Chaz inquired.

“’Cause I fuckin’ said so,” Wick retorted, “Ya really need any more reason than that? I’ve got a fuckin’ plan, all right? All 3 of us will get somethin’ out of it. Now get her on all fours on the fuckin’ floor.”

Chaz narrowed his eyes at Wick and “Just ‘cause _she_ lets ya boss her around doesn’t mean I will. In case you fuckin’ forgot, dipshit, _I’m_ her second in command and you’re the _third_ in command. So I don’t hafta take orders from you.”

“Oh yeah?” Wick questioned, “Well the 3 of us were the ones that ran that gang, not just you, Chaz. I enforced just as many fuckin’ rules as you did. And do I really hafta remind ya that I was our best fuckin’ salesmen?”

Chaz voiced a low growl and narrowed his eyes even further and Wick cocked one dark brow at him, hinting, “And just who fucked up back in L.A.? Who’s the reason for us havin’ ta go into hiding anyway?”

Chaz’s jaw clenched tight and his nostrils flared in anger.

“You tellin’ me you wouldn’t have done the same fuckin’ thing?” Chaz inquired.

“I didn’t say that,” Wick retorted.

“I know ya didn’t. You can’t keep your fuckin’ cool as well as I can. _You_ would’ve done _much_ fuckin’ worse than I did,” Chaz countered.

“Booooys…” Dahlia stated in a warning tone.

But the conversation was _far_ from over.

“How the fuck do you know that?” Wick pressed, “I wasn’t thrown into that situation. You don’t know how the fuck I would’ve handled it.”

“I know you well enough ta know that you would’ve lost your temper in the moment and you would’ve done _much_ worse to that fucker than I did,” Chaz insisted.

“Oh that’s _horseshit_!” Wick cried in protest.

“You tellin’ me you wouldn’t have killed the fucker?” Chaz asked.

“Of _course_ I would’ve fuckin’ killed him!” Wick answered.

“So how’s that any different than what I did?” Chaz prompted.

“I wouldn’t have fuckin’ got caught!” Wick snapped.

“Oh _sure_ you wouldn’t have. If they started growin’ suspicious of me, you would’ve gotten busted the _same_ fuckin’ night,” Chaz argued.

“Boys!” Dahlia shouted, trying to break up their fight.

“I would’ve done worse to that slimy little fucker than you did,” Wick commented, “There’s _no_ doubt about that. But I would’ve made sure that he disappeared forever. I get that you wanted to make a fuckin’ example out of him. I get that you wanted ta make sure that no one else would try ta pull the shit he pulled. And what makes a louder statement than findin’ a mutilated corpse with a note written in blood that details his crimes? I get that. But that shit’s got us in one _hell_ of a fuckin’ bind, Mathers.”

“You’re just pissed because it’s the _same_ fuckin’ thing you would’ve done. For once, in that fuckin’ moment, I slipped up. I lost my fuckin’ cool. I did somethin’ stupid. But it’s the same irrational shit you pull _all_ the time when dealing with other gangs. You’re _always_ tryin’ ta make fuckin’ examples of ‘em instead of makin’ ‘em disappear without a trace. As long as they can investigate that shit, we’re at risk. You’re right. I shouldn’t have made a fuckin’ example of that dirty motherfucker. But I did. And I’ll tell you _why_ I did it. When this shit dies down, when they can’t find anything ta fuckin’ link me ta the crime – because I was smart about not leavin’ any mark of mine on the crime, no fingerprints, no DNA, no nothin’ – then we’ll return ta L.A. And I’ll be _damned_ if I _ever_ let anyone get away with shit like that. Don’t you think that’ll have ‘em all runnin’ scared there in Los Angeles, Wick? How well would you sleep at night if you knew what another gang was capable of doin’ ta one of your men? Betcha wouldn’t try that shit again, would ya?” Chaz countered.

Wick didn’t say a word and Chaz knew that it was because he was right. _No_ fucker would ever try what those fucking _Diablos_ had tried. The head of that fucking gang had known what it was like to meet the Devil the night Chaz had gotten a hold of him. Even though their plans had fallen through, Chaz had still sought revenge against their gang. And without the head of the snake, the rest of the body wouldn’t be able to function once the realization of what had happened really sank in. Not only would they never try to fuck with the Black Rose Rebellion again as long as they lived but they’d struggle until they managed to elect a new leader and second in command. It would be _total_ chaos within that gang until they devised a new structure and hierarchy for their members. If another gang chose to strike before they were ready, their gang wouldn’t stand a fucking chance. They’d be weak, vulnerable. They’d be at each other’s throats like a pack of fucking wolves. But Chaz’s actions would also ensure that the other gangs there in Los Angeles got a wakeup call. If the brutal torture and murder he’d committed weren’t enough to scare the gangs there in L.A. into avoiding attacking the Rebellion or challenging them at all costs, he didn’t know what else would.

“Hey!” Dahlia scolded, “Would you two cut that shit out? God! If I didn’t know ya, I’d think you were bitter rivals. You two bitch back and forth with each other for _hours_ when I’m not there ta separate your shit but the _minute_ someone else offends one of ya, your argument’s forgotten and you _both_ jump him. But, as soon as you’ve beaten his ass, then you’re _right_ back at it again.”

The boys shrugged. Chaz had won their little argument. There was no contesting that. Wick had lost and he knew it. They’d both said all they had to say and now that they’d both gotten it all out there, the argument would be forgotten. They were best friends, despite their occasional spats, but they weren’t women. They didn’t hold a grudge against their fellow gang members, _especially_ against the closest friend they’d ever had, the friend they’d had since they were in diapers.

“Now…” Wick hinted, “Are you gonna put her on the floor or am I gonna hafta do it myself?”

Chaz rolled his eyes but grasped Dahlia’s ass with both of his large hands and turned around. He found that Wick had laid a towel out on the floor and he lowered himself onto his knees, laying her out on the towel.

“On your knees, Dahl,” Wick told her as he dropped to his knees behind her.

She heaved a sigh but rolled over onto her stomach before pushing herself up onto her hands and knees to gaze up at him for his next instruction.

He grinned down at her and informed her, “That looks _so_ fuckin’ good from here… But I need your ass facin’ me and your lips wrapped around Chaz’s dick before I’ll give ya your surprise.”

She raised one dark brow in an “Oh _really_?” expression. Chaz figured that Wick would want to get even for Chaz fucking her while she’d sucked Wick off earlier that afternoon. But Chaz was surprised to discover that that wasn’t what Wick had in mind.

When Dahlia turned herself around to face Chaz, Chaz reached out to run his fingers through her wet, raven-colored curls.

He smiled down at her and reminded her, “Ya don’t hafta do anything ya don’t want to, Dahl.”

_Both_ of the boys had made _damn_ sure that she knew they’d never push her or pressure her into doing anything she didn’t want to.

“Take those fuckin’ boxers off,” she demanded, gazing up at him.

Chaz was quick to do as she’d instructed before getting back up onto his knees.

She bit her bottom lip and gazed up at him, a sly little grin curling at those full, pouty lips just before her tongue darted out and she lapped at his happy trail. She dipped her tongue into his belly button before easing her mouth back. She flicked her tongue back down his happy trail and nuzzled her way down through the curls that grew between his thighs until she got to her destination. She grinned from ear to ear, peeking up at him, and winked before she licked her lips and parted them wide.

Chaz clenched his jaw as he watched her draw closer and closer. He held his breath until her warm, wet mouth engulfed his aching, rigid length. The air whooshed right out of him and he spread his knees a bit further apart to stabilize himself. He brought one hand down to sift his fingers through her hair as she worked that wicked little mouth on him, his eyes rolling back into his head even as he tipped his head back. His eyes fluttered shut and his other hand came down to gently rub at her jaw as he heard it pop.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew that he was larger than most men were. While he knew that Dahlia would never come out and admit which of the boys was thicker and which was longer, they still compared their cocks to each other. It was a guy thing. He knew that Wick was slightly thicker but Chaz was just over 8 inches while Wick was just 7 1/2 inches in length. While they were both well-endowed compared to most men, there was still a bit of competition between the two in terms of their sex lives with Dahlia. But competition was something they thrived on. And Dahlia always seemed to benefit from it. He’d _never _heard her complain when they tried to outdo one another in terms of sex or foreplay with her.

Chaz sucked a sharp breath in through his teeth, making a hissing noise, and lowered his head again to peer down at the woman he shared with his best friend as he felt her sharp little teeth rake over his hard shaft. A deep, rumbling groan spilled from his lips as he watched her with hooded lids, watching how her head bobbed as she alternated between sucking his cock and raking her teeth along his length. He used his fingertips on both hands to rub soothing circles over her jaw, massaging the muscles there to keep them from tensing up and getting sore.

“_Fuck…_” he ground out before sucking a breath in through his teeth and letting his head tip back again.

He heard movement and opened his eyes to see his best friend spreading Dahlia’s knees further apart before he winked at Chaz and nodded to him. Wick turned around and slid his head underneath Dahlia, his hands gripping at her thighs even as he guided her down to sit on his face.

Chaz smirked when he heard the little cry of surprise she voiced around his cock.

“It’s time you had a fuckin’ suck too, sweetheart,” Chaz told her, smiling down at her as her eyes cracked open and she peered up at him, “Ya gave Wick one this afternoon and now you’re goin’ ta fuckin’ town on me. Ya work _damn_ hard ta please us. And you deserve _every_ fuckin’ bit of what he’s about ta do ta you. He’d better make a _real_ fuckin’ feast of ya.”

She whimpered and sucked a little harder at his length and a deep, guttural groan rumbled up from his chest.

“I think she _really_ wants it, Ramsey. Better eat that shit _up_,” Chaz informed his friend on their girlfriend’s behalf.

“That true, Dahl?” Wick questioned.

“Mmm-_hmm_…” she hummed her answer around Chaz’s dick, making him growl.

“And when he gets done with ya, baby, I’ll let him have ya,” Chaz told the raven-haired vixen that was working him over, “I got my turn this afternoon. It’s only fair.”

He heard Wick give a muffled groan of approval even as Dahlia voiced her own breathy moan.

Chaz let one hand roam around to sift his fingers through Dahlia’s jet-black curls, gently coaxing her into a slightly faster pace before he began to massage her scalp with his fingertips.

“_Fuck_…” he grunted, “That’s it, Dahl… You bring a _whole_ new definition ta the word blowjob, baby… _Uggghn_… That’s it, Dahl… _Just_ like that…”

She moaned around him before voicing a sharp little whimper and he heard Wick chuckle, knowing that Wick had done something that their girlfriend hadn’t expected but had certainly liked, judging by the way her hips jerked towards Wick’s face. Chaz watched as Wick’s long, slender fingers and large palms gripped Dahlia’s ample, well-rounded ass, tugging her even closer.

“You’re all right, sweetheart…” Chaz grit out of clenched teeth, “He’ll letcha know if you’re hurtin’ him…”

“Mmm-_hmm_…” Wick hummed in agreement.

Chaz knew she was a bit hesitant but, with a bit of persistent coaxing from Wick, she started to actually ride his friend’s face.

Chaz lowered himself down so that he was sitting back on his heels and prompted, “Ya can rest your hands on my thighs, baby. It’ll give ya some leverage. I’m not gonna letcha fall.”

She grabbed him by the thighs, her fingers digging in and getting a firm grip on him. He watched her breasts sway as she ground herself against Wick’s face, sinking his teeth into his lower lip as he saw how rigid and puckered her nipples were. She voiced a breathy little whine and he couldn’t help but chuckle as he heard Wick make a loud slurping sound.

While Dahlia wasn’t a shyster, it made her blush like a little school girl when she heard either of the boys slurping at her or sucking at her loudly. And, sure enough, her eyes squeezed shut and her cheeks turned a bright shade of red.

“She blushin’ yet?” Chaz heard his best friend ask.

“As red as a fuckin’ tomato,” Chaz answered, “But you’d better fuckin’ step it up a bit.”

Wick chuckled and razzed, “What’s the matter, Chazzie boy? Not gonna last long this time? And you pride yourself on havin’ ‘such _great_ stamina’. Pssh!”

Dahlia whimpered and looked up at Chaz with a pleading expression in those emerald green eyes, eyes that were so dark with pleasure.

“Shut the fuck up and eat it,” Chaz told Wick, “If she could use her mouth ta communicate she’d be givin’ a pout of _epic_ fuckin’ proportions.”

Dahlia purred a loud “_mmmmm_…” around Chaz’s length and Chaz sucked a sharp breath in through his teeth, hissing as he tipped his head back and let his hazel eyes drift shut. His hips started to rock gently as she sucked even harder. He felt his balls tightening, drawing up into his body and growing heavier and heavier between his thighs. He grunted with each thrust his hips gave and she sucked greedily at him before easing her head back a bit to rake her teeth over the sensitive ridge that separated the head from his shaft.

A loud, guttural growl rumbled up from deep within his chest as both of his hands fisted in her hair. His thighs began to tremble as the crackling started in down at the base of his spine, snaking its way up his spine even as it brought all of his nerve endings alive. The sizzling sensation rose quickly and he knew that it would be one hell of a strong orgasm.

And he wasn’t disappointed. He tipped his head back, his face scrunching up in pleasure as he voiced a loud, strangled shout. His hips bucked erratically as he spilled himself into Dahlia’s mouth. She swallowed it down before easing her mouth back and lapping him clean. She reached up to wipe at her chin and her mouth and he chuckled breathlessly, smiling down at her as he panted and sat back on his heels.

“Better give her hers, Ramsey,” Chaz commented, “She sure as shit deserves it. She worked _damn_ hard for it today.”

Wick eased his mouth away from Dahlia and she whimpered, a big pout curling at her lips. She let go of Chaz’s thighs to rest on her hands and knees again and lowered her head to peek down at Wick from underneath her swaying breasts.

“What the fuck are you doin’?” she inquired.

“I’m gonna give my girl a fuckin’ orgasm’s what I’m doin’,” was Wick’s retort.

She cocked one dark brow and Wick sat up, crooking a finger at her. She was quick to sit on her ass and spin around to face him. He held one hand up to signal for her to stay put before he crawled around so that he was behind her.

“On your back, Dahl. I’ll take care of ya while Chazzie boy there takes _his_ fuckin’ bath. I can smell the fucker from here and he _sure_ as shit needs it,” Wick joked.

“Oh fuck you!” Chaz razzed right back.

“We’ve already been over this, Chazzie boy,” Wick replied, “I like the pussy, not the cock. This bro’s no homo.”

Dahlia giggled at that and Chaz rolled his eyes, sighing, “What the fuck ever. I’m gonna take a fuckin’ bath.”

“Good. Clear out and give me and our girl some fuckin’ room here,” Wick said.

Chaz grabbed a towel and a wash cloth before heading over to the tub. If he knew Wick, Wick would be done by the time he was done with his bath. With all the teasing he and Dahlia had done in the tub and the fact that Wick had been eating her pussy while listening to her suck Chaz off and moan for both of them, there was no way in _hell_ Wick would last long, even if he _did_ have more stamina than most men.

Chaz went to go wipe the tub out before filling it with fresh hot water and climbing in. He took a seat as he waited for the water to rise, stealing a peek to find Wick reaching down between his thighs to wrap a hand around his dick and guide it to Dahlia’s entrance. Chaz was quick to reach out for the shower gel Dahlia had bought for him and pop the cap open.

He shut the water off just as he heard Dahlia growl, “Wick, stop fuckin’ teasin’! You push that thing _inside_.”

Chaz chuckled at that and shook his head as he started washing up.

He stole another peek over at them to see Wick with one hand wrapped around both of Dahlia’s wrists, pinning them above her head. Chaz wasn’t stupid. He knew that the position would make those perky breasts of Dahlia’s press right up against Wick’s broad chest.

Wick nipped at Dahlia’s cheek and growled, “Uggghn. You’re so fuckin’ tight, Dahl, so fuckin’ wet. You like suckin’ Chaz’s dick, did ya?”

“Mmm…” she purred.

It wasn’t exactly an answer, neither yes or no, and Wick nipped at her cheek again before bringing his other hand down to grip the back of one of her thighs, hoisting it up around his waist and then urging it even higher up his side. He gave slow, hard thrusts, angling his hips just right. And Chaz didn’t miss the way Dahlia threw her head back and gave a shout of pleasure, confirming Chaz’s suspicions that his friend must’ve hit that sweet spot along her upper wall.

“Bet you liked it better when I ate that juicy fuckin’ pussy, didn’t ya?” Wick prompted, his fingers digging into her thigh as he held it in place.

“Oh _God_ yes!” came her response as she let her eyes flutter shut and her hands balled into fists, useless as they remained pinned above her head.

“Then fuckin’ cum for me,” Wick insisted, “I want you ta cum _so_ fuckin’ hard. _Cover_ my cock in your juices, Dahl. Fuckin’ do it.”

She gasped, her toes curling, and thrust harder to meet his hips as a whine coursed up from her throat.

“I know ya fuckin’ want it,” Wick told her, “I can see it on your face. You want me ta stop?”

Her eyes snapped open and she glared up at him, snapping, “_Fuck_ no!”

He smirked down at her and gave a particularly harsh thrust, grunting as his hips slapped at hers, and he commented, “Then fuckin’ cum for me.”

He let her thigh go to reach down between them, his fingertips swirling over that sensitive little bundle of nerves between her folds. She voiced a loud whine and her head fell back again as her body tightened, every muscle growing taut.

“_That’s_ it…” Wick praised, “Come on, Dahl. Come on, baby.”

“Ah!” she cried as her body bowed, her tiny frame starting to tremble.

She came with a breathy whine even as Wick groaned, “That’s it, baby. Fuckin’ milk it.”

Chaz returned his attention to his absently-lathering hand and continued washing his leg as he heard Wick give a loud, strangled growl to signal his release.

It didn’t take Chaz long to finish his bath and drain the tub. By then, Wick had Dahlia sitting on the countertop, leaning against his firm chest as he cradled the back of her head in one hand and pressed his lips to the top of her head.

“Mmm…” Dahlia purred contentedly, “I don’t know about you two but I’m ready for bed.”

“I’m fuckin’ drained,” Wick teased, making Dahlia roll her eyes.

“I’m wiped out,” Chaz agreed.

Wick eased Dahlia off of the countertop and onto his hips, carrying her into her bedroom to lay her down on the bed and climb in on the left side of her. Chaz slid into bed to her right and she curled up to rest her head on Wick’s chest, draping one of her legs between both of his, and Chaz spooned up to her from behind, wrapping one arm tight around her and wiggling his way closer until his front was pressed right up against her back.

“What a fuckin’ day,” Wick sighed.

“Tomorrow we’ll hafta get groceries and shit,” Chaz pointed out.

“That’s not the _only_ fuckin’ thing we’ve gotta do,” Wick stated, “We’ve already initiated her bedroom and the fuckin’ bathroom. I say we break in the front room tomorrow and maybe the living room too.”

Dahlia and Chaz both laughed.

Dahlia tipped her head back and stole a long, lingering kiss from Wick before turning her head to the side for Chaz to lean up and over her to steal a kiss of his own. Then she settled back down again, resting her head on Wick’s chest once more and letting her eyes drift shut. Chaz buried his face into her shoulder and pressed a kiss there, giving her a slight squeeze as he tightened his arm around her briefly.

“Mmm… I love you, boys,” she murmured sleepily.

“Love you too, Dahl,” both of them replied in unison.

** _=Ivan=_ **

Ivan Chevenandrova informed his oldest sons, Luka and Mikael, when they got off their shift at the warehouse that night that they were to report to him for a very important meeting. He’d already told Julius, Dmitri, and Nikolai that he needed to talk to them at _exactly_ midnight that night to discuss some very serious matters. Conversations involving “serious matters” were _always_ mandatory and they almost _always_ involved business either in their homeland of Albania, where Ivan and his 2 oldest sons lived, or in the United States, where the other 4 of his sons and his daughter lived.

So, at 11:50, Ivan wasn’t surprised when he heard that familiar “rap… rap rap rap rap” on his front door. He answered with a “rap rap” before unlocking the door and tugging it open to find Luka and Mikael standing on his doorstep. Everyone in the family – Ivan, his ex-wives, and his children – knew that pattern of knocks. It was the way they recognized who was on the other side of the door, that it was family and not an enemy or the police. The gangs they ran had different knocks as well. And, if they weren’t answered by the end of the pattern from the other side, they knew better than to enter the home or building.

“Family meeting?” Luka questioned.

Ivan nodded his head, confirming his eldest son’s suspicion, and both of the boys nodded, stepping into the house.

Ivan led them to the room in his home that was used just for meetings, gesturing with one hand towards the chairs there at the long, rectangular table in the room. He already had his cell phone laid out in on the table and his laptop open with Skype pulled up.

Luka and Mikael took a seat on either side of him and slid their cell phones out of their pockets to set them on the table in front of them.

Ivan’s phone went off and he was quick to grab it, finding that the call was coming from an “unrecognized” number, which was nothing new, considering their line of business since it was always best to use disposable phones to avoid being traced by other gangs or the authorities.

He answered it, greeting, “Hello?”

“_Babai, _it’s Julius. I had ta get a new phone so the cops couldn’t trace my calls or monitor my phone conversations. I’m reportin’ for the meeting,” he heard Julius’ voice reply from the other end of the phone.

“I’m going to put you on speaker phone, _bir._ Luka and Mikael are already here. Now we’re waiting for Dmitri, Vigo, and Nikolai to join us on Skype or to call us,” Ivan informed his son.

Ivan put Julius on speaker phone so he’d be able to hear what Luka and Mikael had to contribute to the conversation as well as allowing them to hear him.

He heard the little jingle that notified him of an incoming call on Skype and answered it before turning the volume on his phone and his laptop all the way up. Nikolai was the first to call but Dmitri and Vigo joined the conversation on Skype shortly after that.

“Now…” Ivan started, “This is a meeting to discuss family matters.”

“Is this about Dahlia?” Nikolai inquired, an edge of concern for his twin filling his voice, “Is that why she’s not joining this conversation? She called me yesterday and told me that she was on her way outta California, that she was gonna lay low somewhere ‘til the shit blew over back in L.A.”

“No, no,” Ivan was quick to reassure him and the rest of the boys, “Dahlia’s safe. Something went down in Los Angeles but she wouldn’t disclose what it was. All she told me was that she, Chaz, and Wick had to relocate to lay low until things blew over back in L.A., like Niko said. But, because she’s laying low, and because I don’t want her coming out of hiding and getting involved in this, I’ll be the one to disclose certain tidbits of information to her when I think it’s best to do so. That means that Julius is going to have to lay low too since the police are still monitoring him. But the rest of you… I want you all to meet me at the Boston airport. Luka, Mikael, and I will catch a late flight tomorrow or the next day,” Ivan stated.

“Right now, they’re investigatin’ the activities of the Black Rose Rebellion _real_ closely,” Nikolai informed the rest of the family, “There was a brutal torture and murder case that surfaced just this week. I don’t know which of the boys did it, but it’s _definitely_ the work of the Rebellion, judging by the pictures I managed to pull up when I hacked my way into the L.A.P.D. database. Whatever the fucker did… It must’ve been some pretty offensive shit. The guy was _mutilated_, guys. We’re talkin’ fingernails ripped out, toes severed, his junk was fucked up, multiple lacerations on his chest and stomach, parts of his skin were peeled off, he had acid burns here and there and burns from a blowtorch… This guy must’ve _really_ fucked up.”

The men all voiced a collective, “Holy shit…”

“The only two members of the gang that I think would use those forms of torture are Chaz or Wick,” Luka pitched in, “Those are forms of torture that I taught them on one of their visits over here to Albania. And the only two that deal out torture in that gang are those two. Even when Dahlia decides to have a little fun herself on the rare occasion when someone _really_ pisses her off, she just stands back and instructs the boys on what she wants them to do to her victims.”

Everyone agreed with that statement.

“So why are we having this meeting tonight, if it’s not about Dahlia? It’s not Christmas or Thanksgiving,” Vigo pointed out.

“I know that,” Ivan replied, chuckling, “This business is _much_ more serious than holidays, _bir. _I’ve recently discovered that I have a second daughter.”

“We have another sister?” Nikolai asked.

“How old is she?” Dmitri questioned.

“How do you know she’s really yours?” Luka inquired, “_Plenty_ of women have tried to say that you fathered their children.”

“They did a DNA test to see if she was really my biological daughter. It came back 90% positive, the highest percentage they’ve found yet there at the clinic they conducted the test in. She’s mine. I had her mother send a lock of her hair and a photograph of her into the lab and I sent some hair and a photograph of myself in. They sent me the photograph along with the results. You boys should see her… She doesn’t look _anything_ like her mother,” Ivan told them.

He pulled a picture of her up on his computer, the one her mother had sent into the lab and he had scanned onto his computer, and sent it to Dmitri, Vigo, and Nikolai before showing it to Luka and Mikael.

“My God!” Luka exclaimed as his eyes roamed over her facial features.

“That long, black hair…” Dmitri stated.

“The firm jawline and slender cheeks…” Nikolai added.

“The deeply-tanned skin and those facial features are a _dead_ giveaway,” Mikael commented.

“She’s _definitely_ a Chevenandrova,” Vigo agreed.

“She’s _certainly_ got the features of a Chevenandrova. What does her mother look like?” Luka pointed out.

“She looks _nothing_ like her mother. Her mother has brown eyes, not hazel. She has pale skin and brown hair that she dyes on occasion. Her face is almost gaunt-looking. The girl doesn’t look _anything_ like the bitch that birthed her,” Ivan informed them before inquiring, “Do any of you still have doubts?”

“No,” the 5 boys that had seen her picture answered.

“What do you know about her?” Julius asked, jumping back into the conversation.

“Her name is Ziva Chevenandrova,” Ivan replied, “At least her bitch of a mother gave her the Chevenandrova name. She’ll be 21 in May. She grew up in a small town called Virginia, Illinois. There’s no telling what kind of childhood she had. Her mother was a real leech, freeloading off of anyone and everyone she could. She was a real selfish bitch, only thinking of herself. She was a whore and I’m sure that Ziva’s probably not her only child. I didn’t know her mother well. But a person didn’t have to know her well to know what kind of a woman she was. I was hiding out there in Virginia for a few weeks. I met her mother at one of the bars there in town – there were only a couple and they were only separated by one building in between them – on the first night and wound up going home with her that night. She mooched off me the next 3 fucking weeks. So it was no surprise when she called me and told me that she was pregnant 2 months later and that it was mine. I didn’t believe her of course, _especially_ since I wasn’t the only man she was sleeping with while I was staying there. But she’s called me every few years to demand child support, which she hasn’t received a _penny_ of. Finally, I decided to check into it. And I’m glad I did. I just wish I’d done it sooner.”

“So we’re going to start with her mother?” Luka guessed, “See what she knows?”

Ivan nodded and stated, “Yes. I doubt the girl’s still there but we’ll see what the bitch knows at least. From there, we’ll track down anyone Ziva knew well – other family members, friends, boyfriends. I don’t care what we have to do to find her.”

The boys all nodded and Julius insisted, “I can’t just sit on my ass and not do anything ta help. It sounds like you guys are gonna have one hell of a job ahead of ya. I can figure _somethin’_ out ta fool the parole officer and keep her off my trail.”

“Julius, don’t you –,” Ivan started before his son cut him off.

“I’ll come up with somethin’. I got lucky enough that they gave me a bracelet instead of an ankle cuff. And I’ve got a techie that owes me a fuckin’ favor,” Julius said before adding, “Just tell me when ta be in Boston and I’ll be there.”

Ivan opened his mouth to protest but frowned as the phone line went dead. He sighed, bringing a hand up to run it down over his face.

“You _know_ Dahlia’s not just going to stay where she’s at. If she finds out anything on Ziva, she’ll start digging to get a location. She’ll try to track her down herself,” Luka commented, “She’ll come out of her hiding spot and risk exposing her whereabouts to the authorities. And after this corpse was found, they’ll be gunning to bring her, Chaz, _and_ Wick down since they’re the top 3 dogs in the Rebellion. They’ve been trying to tear that gang down for 5 years now.”

“I know,” Ivan admitted with a nod, “But she’s got Chaz and Wick with her. Those men are the smartest, the fiercest of her gang members. They’d lay down their lives for her without a _second’s_ hesitation. She’s a Chevenandrova and they’ve been _trained_ by Chevenandrovas. They’re smart. I’m not worried about Dahlia or those boys. They’re like sons to me. I know them well enough to know that they’ll follow her to the ends of the earth.”

“So what’s the plan after we find Ziva?” Mikael inquired, changing the subject before the rest of the boys could put their opinions in about Dahlia’s potential risk of getting herself brought in by the police.

Ivan shrugged his shoulders and explained, “We let her do as she pleases but we make sure that she has some sort of security system in place – a _faultless_ one. _No_ one is going to hurt my daughter and get away with it. As long as she’s safe and happy, that’s all that matters.”

The boys all nodded and Vigo spoke up, pressing, “And if she’s in a gang or something?”

“Then we make sure that they can protect her. Gang life is in her blood. _Trouble_ is in her blood. It wouldn’t surprise me at _all_ if she was involved in ‘illegal activities’. She’s a Chevenandrova after all. Like I said, all that matters is that she’s safe and happy. She’s my _daughter_, your _sister_. She’s _family_. And family comes before _everything_ else. If she wants to stay in the States, we ensure she has a safety system in place. If she wants to come back to Albania, we set her up in one of the safe houses and hire some of our most trusted men to watch over her,” Ivan said before announcing, “Luka, Mikael, and I will let you know when we can get that late flight to Boston. The fewer people we meet on the plane and at the airport, the better. We don’t want to risk people figuring out who we are or that we’re in the States. You boys just meet us there at the airport. We’ll go from there to Virginia, Illinois to question her mother. You’re dismissed.”

They all nodded. Dmitri, Vigo, and Nikolai ended their video calls with Ivan and Ivan showed Luka and Mikael to the front door. He gave them the traditional hug before giving them a gentle pat on the cheek and watching them head out to climb into their cars. He closed the door and locked it behind him, a smile curling at his lips at the idea of being able to meet his daughter for the first time.

If she was anything like either of her parents or any of her siblings, she’d be more trouble than a _whole_ gang of rookies. And Ivan had dealt with and trained _plenty_ of rookies in his day. He bet Ziva would be a real independent soul, stubborn and inclined to flirt with danger and trouble just to get an adrenaline rush. If she was a Chevenandrova, she’d be as charming as the Devil himself and just as wicked. And Ivan knew better than anyone that having daughters was just as much of a curse as it was a blessing.

** _ –=Mac=–_ **

** **

Macario Sanchez didn’t know which was worse, dealing with Ziva when she was on a high or when she was crashing. She was currently seated right beside him in the cab of his truck, her head resting on his shoulder as she fought sleep. They’d gone two rounds after he’d brought her out of the cave and carried her out to the truck and he was just about as fucking exhausted as she was.

“You’re not very cuddly,” she murmured before giving a big yawn.

He stole a peek over at her out of the corner of his eye and saw a pout curling those full, sensual lips of hers.

“I don’t fuckin’ cuddle,” he grumbled.

“Mac?” she inquired.

“What?” he asked as he navigated his old, rusty, red Chevy onto the main road that would lead him back through town and out to the outskirts on the other side of town.

“I’ve gotta pee,” she announced, “How long ‘til we get back ta your place?”

“Maybe 20 minutes,” he answered, “If ya can’t wait that fuckin’ long, ya let me know. I don’t wantcha pissin’ in my damn truck.”

“I can wait,” she assured him, her husky voice soft and quiet.

She gave another yawn and rubbed her cheek back and forth on his shoulder.

“Ya better…” he mumbled.

“Mac?” she questioned.

“What?!” he snapped, his patience wearing thinner with every damn question she asked him.

“We need ta go back ta my car tomorrow, get my things,” she told him, “I don’t know what your plan is here but we need ta at _least_ get my shit out of my car.”

He just nodded. He didn’t really know whether to make it look like she’d had a car accident or she’d just deserted it when it broke down or what he wanted to do. There was no way her family would be able to find her out there in Caineville. Hell he didn’t even know if anyone was looking for her. Devon sure as shit thought there would be but he didn’t really know too much about her family yet.

He finally decided that he’d ask her about this family of hers. He didn’t know whether she’d answer or not. Right now she seemed pretty compliant but that was probably due to the fact that the effects of the meth that had been running through her system were now wearing off. She was crashing and it wouldn’t be long until she was out. So he only had so much time to try to prod her for information. Sure, he knew she’d be pissed as hell when she was sober and realized that he’d gotten information out of her when she was vulnerable. But he wanted to know what the fuck he was dealing with.

“So what made ya decide ta leave home?” he asked her.

There was a long pause and he began to wonder if she even intended to answer him. Then he began to think that maybe she’d fallen asleep. He’d just heaved a big sigh when she finally decided to answer.

“I don’t have a home…” she informed him, her voice so quiet it was just barely above a whisper.

She didn’t have a home? What the fuck was that supposed to mean? Was it the meth talking? Was she getting delusional because she was so tired? Or was she telling the truth?

“The fuck’s that supposed ta mean?” he prompted.

“I just kinda… moved around. I stayed with a couple friends for a bit. I rented here or stayed in a motel there. I worked odd jobs ta earn a living. I didn’t wanna be a damn mooch like my mom,” she revealed, “I never stayed too long at the places I lived. I wasn’t about ta just freeload off people like she always did. I paid my way or I slept in my damn car.”

“But what about your family? I thought ya had a sister from L.A. or somethin’?” Mac pressed.

The more he found out about this bitch, the more things he discovered he had in common with her. But, for every thing they had in common, they had something else that set them apart.

“I might,” she replied.

“_Might_?” he questioned in confusion, “Ya sounded pretty fuckin’ sure back there in the cave when Devon brought it up.”

“My mom was the town bicycle. Several of the men there in town ‘got a ride’ if ya know what I mean. She never gave a shit about anyone but herself. All she cared about was money and men. She worked maybe 2 years her _whole_ life. _Combined_. I don’t know who my dad is. Hell I don’t know if _she_ even knows who it really is. She used ta rant about the man she thinks is my father all the damn time. She called him ‘that foreign prick’. I’m the only child she had, at least that she’s willing ta admit to. If she’s had any others, I’ve never met ‘em. I heard my mom use my supposed father’s name one night when I was 16, back before I moved out. So I started doin’ some diggin’. I looked him up, found a picture of him. I look _just_ like him. I don’t look _anything_ like my mom. I dug a bit deeper and discovered that he has 7 other children,” she explained.

“Fuck!” Mac exclaimed, his brows rising at her last revelation.

Shit he couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to deal with _one_ fucking kid, let alone seven!

“Mmm-hmm…” she sighed sleepily before yawning again.

“And that bitch from L.A. was one of ‘em?” he inquired.

“Yep,” she answered, popping the P.

So she’d run away from home to find this sister then? At least that’s what he was assuming.

Mac turned off the main road and onto the old dirt road that would lead him to his shack.

He felt Ziva rubbing her cheek against his shoulder again and informed her, “Almost there. We’ll be there in ‘bout 5 minutes.”

“Mmm…” she sighed, nodding her head.

“Then ya can piss,” he told her.

“Okie dokie, schmokie,” came her softly murmured response.

Mac couldn’t help but chuckle at that.

She remained quiet until he pulled up in front of his shack. Haus started barking his damn head off and Ziva jumped, sitting up in her seat and taking a good look around.

“Shuddup!” Mac shouted at the dog, making Ziva flinch again.

She blinked a few times and Mac’s lips curled up into a sneer. She was actually kind of cute when she had that dazed, sleepy expression on her pretty face, not that he’d ever admit it.

Mac threw the door on his side of the truck open and slid out of the truck, turning around to face her. She nearly fell out of the truck since he’d gotten out so quick. She gasped and quickly grasped at his thighs to stop herself from tumbling out of the truck and landing flat on her face. Mac couldn’t help but groan as the position put her hands on his thighs, her fingers gripping them tight over his coveralls, and her open mouth right in front of his crotch.

Mac felt his cock twitch in his coveralls, quickly perking up at the idea of receiving some attention from those full, pouty lips and that warm, wet mouth.

She righted herself, setting her hands on the seat of the truck, and gave him an adorable, sheepish grin.

“Sorry…” she apologized, actually looking a little bashful for the first time since he’d knocked her out and kidnapped her when he’d found her stranded on the side of the road, “I didn’t mean ta be a cock tease. I just about fell on my face.”

“C’mon! Get the fuck outta there,” he barked, his tone a bit sharper than necessary.

_Damn_ her for being so fucking sexy. And damn her for being cute.

Ziva flinched a little, clearly surprised by his tone, but nodded and carefully spun her legs around. Mac knew that she had to be tired if she was being this compliant, if she wasn’t fighting him tooth and nail on everything and putting up a real fuss.

He rolled his eyes at her slow progress and reached out to throw her over his shoulder. She shrieked and his dick started to harden at the sound. That was the first time he’d actually heard her scream. Her hands scrambled over his back and her nails clawed at him as she struggled to get a firm grip on his coveralls.

“Fuckin’ hold still!” Mac scolded, “Ya keep squirmin’ like that and I’m gonna drop ya on yer damn head!”

She gasped and fisted her tiny hands in his coveralls, her nails digging into his back through the cotton of his coveralls.

His nostrils flared and his jaw clenched as he felt his dick grow even harder for her. There was nothing that aroused him more than a woman that struggled, a woman that screamed and thrashed in fear or agony.

“You drop me and I’ll get even with ya when ya sleep, Mac!” she growled.

_There_ was that fighting spirit. She must’ve been waking up a bit.

He just chuckled as he slammed the driver’s side door of his old Chevy and started for the shack Walter had sold to him for a “reduced” price after he’d started cooking for the greedy fucker. He’d been _just_ as ready to move out at 16 as Walter had been ready for him to leave.

He carried her over to the shack and climbed the steps before fishing into one of the pockets of his coveralls and tugging out the key to his house.

Once he got her inside, he carried her through the living room and down the hall to the bathroom. He set her down on her tiny bare feet and instructed, “There. Piss.”

“Mac, it’s fuckin’ dark in here. How am I supposed ta find my way ta the damn toilet?” Ziva questioned.

“You’ll find it,” he assured her.

She’d find it all right, probably with her toes first.

“And just how the hell am I supposed ta get my shorts down with my hands cuffed?” she pressed.

Mac sighed, grumbling, “High maintenance bitch…”

“I _heard_ that!” she snapped.

He shook his head and reached down with both hands, letting them roam around to the front of her shorts to slide the zipper down next before catching the sides of her shorts in his big hands and giving a sharp tug. They fell down to her ankles and he gave a triumphant little smirk, proud of his handiwork.

“There,” he announced, “Now piss.”

She sighed but began to shuffle forward. She tripped and voiced a gasp as she fell forward, landing face first on the grimy, linoleum floor. She voiced a little growl and pushed herself up onto her hands and knees, proceeding to crawl across the floor instead of trying to stumble through the bathroom with her pants around her ankles.

“I don’t have the fuckin’ patience for this shit…” she mumbled to herself.

Mac smirked at that and went to pull the shade in front of the bathroom window open. He peered over at her, watching her to make sure that she didn’t try anything stupid.

“Seriously?!” she shouted at him, “You couldn’t have done that _before_ I fell on my fuckin’ face?”

“Nah,” he answered, his thin lips curling up into a smug smirk as he shook his head at her, “That was too fuckin’ funny.”

She narrowed those hazel eyes to glare at him and kicked her shorts off onto the bathroom floor.

“’Sides, ya look _damn_ good down on your knees,” he joked.

That earned him a quiet little growl from the raven-haired hellcat.

“You’re an ass,” she accused.

“Everyone has one,” he retorted, grinning from ear to ear when she narrowed those eyes into little slits.

He finally heard her start to pee and she sighed with relief as her bladder emptied itself. He laughed and she cocked one brow at him, looking completely unamused. She reminded him of a man in _so_ many ways but she _sure_ as hell had the anatomy of a woman. A _tiny_ woman with an untamable flame burning inside of her. She had the fighting spirit of a Mustang that had been born and raised in the wild. She wasn’t one to back down from _any_ challenge and she didn’t hesitate to balk or lash out when she didn’t like something.

Ziva leaned forward and reached out for the toilet paper. She went to wipe and had to support herself on the balls of her feet to keep from doing a nosedive and landing on her face again.

“Your _ass_ is gonna pay for my face-plant, Mac,” she informed him, “_Bright_ and fuckin’ early in the morning.”

“Ya wake me up early and I’ll beat yer ass,” he retorted.

She stood and flushed before shuffling over to the sink. She paused when she discovered that there wasn’t any soap, looking all around the sink.

“Soap?” she prompted, peeking back over her shoulder at him.

He rolled his eyes but pointed at the bottle of cheap shower gel he had sitting on the ledge of the bathtub that also served as a shower.

She sighed but walked over to grab it, heading back over to the sink and offering him another peek at that ample, well-rounded ass. He bit his bottom lip as he took in those ass cheeks that were big enough to fill his large palms and still spill between his long, thick fingers a bit. Then his eyes roamed down those long, slender legs that were firm, toned with muscle from hard work or exercise.

“And you’d better watch it on those threats, Mac. They might just backfire on ya,” she stated, reminding him of the threat he’d shot her way just moments before he’d gotten distracted.

“Don’t ya think for _one_ fuckin’ second that I won’t do it!” he barked.

She waggled her ass at him after she’d finished washing her hands, stealing a glance back at him over her shoulder. She was taunting him and they _both_ knew it.

“I just so happen ta _love_ gettin’ spanked, Mackie,” she purred, that husky voice so smooth and seductive.

She bit her bottom lip as his hands clenched into fists. He _did_ want to fucking spank her when she put it _that_ way, when she waggled that ass at him and made him want to sink his teeth into it. He wanted to mark it, wanted to punish her for taunting him. But that’s _exactly_ what she wanted so he wasn’t going to do it.

Ziva turned to face him and his eyes fastened to that thatch of short, dark curls that she kept trimmed into a small, upside down triangle just above her pussy. His nostrils flared and his jaw clenched tight as his cock twitched in his coveralls. He’d fucked that pussy. Hell he’d fucked it _twice_ tonight. And it was the _best_ damn pussy he’d had yet – so wet, so hot, so tight. She wasn’t like all his victims that cried and whimpered in pain. She wasn’t like the whores from the bar that whined that he was being too rough or told him to slow down. No. This bitch had _loved_ it. She’d sunk those nails in and begged him _not_ to stop. She’d sunk her teeth into his skin to mark him. She’d met him thrust for thrust. Sure, there was no denying that she was a bit fucked up. But she was a wild one. She didn’t hold back when it came to _anything_, whether it was fucking or fighting. She had so much life left in her. He’d never come across anyone else in his life that had had that kind of fire burning inside of them.

She walked over to him and announced, “I need ya ta take off my beater, Mackie. I like ta sleep naked. I’m assumin’ that won’t be a fuckin’ problem?”

“_Fuck_ no!” he replied, shaking his head, “I would’ve stripped ya down anyway. Easier access for me when I wanna get at the goods.”

She grinned and said, “Good. But you’d better ditch those coveralls and what’s underneath ‘em too.”

He reached out to grab the hem of her wife beater and tugged it up and over her head. It got stuck on her cuffs and he growled in frustration. He’d left her damn bra on the floorboards of his truck and he’d already had to uncuff her once to get her out of the damn wife beater before.

He snarled and reached into his pocket for his knife. He flipped it open and she held still for him as he cut it right down the middle. The material fell to the floor and he closed his switchblade knife again. He needed to empty his fucking pockets. He had _way_ too much shit in them.

“Can I go ta bed now?” she questioned, her eyelids starting to droop as she reached up to rub at her eyes.

Apparently the excitement of almost falling out of the truck, being thrown over his shoulder and carried to and through the house, and doing a face-plant on the bathroom floor was wearing off and the exhaustion was creeping back in again. She was going back into “sleepy mode”.

He nodded to her and said, “Just wait a fuckin’ minute and I’ll show ya how ta get there.”

She nodded and went to lean against the wall. She slumped against it, facing sideways with her cheek pressed up against the wall.

Mac shuffled over to the toilet to take a piss himself before flushing and shedding his clothes. He started for the door and she frowned.

“You should _really_ wash your hands, Mac,” she insisted, “That is _so _fuckin’ gross. You know all the chemicals your body filters out through your urine?”

He’d never thought about that before.

“Better wash those mitts if ya wanna put ‘em on me later,” she told him.

He narrowed his crystal blue orbs at her and she yawned.

“Hey, it’s your choice,” she commented, “You can keep the gross mitts but you’re not gonna be touchin’ me with ‘em.”

“I’ll do whatever I damn well please!” he huffed.

She giggled and his jaw clenched in anger, his nostrils flaring and his hands balling into fists as he demanded, “What’s so fuckin’ funny?”

“You,” she replied, “Ya act like some damn 2 year old throwin’ a tantrum ‘cause he can’t get his way. It’s kinda cute but it’s _definitely_ amusing.”

“I’ll show ya ‘amusing’,” he snapped, stomping over to her.

She only laughed harder and he narrowed his eyes into little slits as he glared at her.

Ziva walked over to him, setting her tiny hands on his firm, broad chest and gently shoving at him. She herded him back over to the sink and grinned up at him even as her eyelids batted with exhaustion.

“Might as well wash ‘em while you’re right there at the sink,” she prompted, “I just might wanna wake ya up in the middle of the night or when I wake up in the morning for a little attention.”

He heaved a big sigh.

“Yer a fuckin’ pain in my ass,” he grumbled.

“Good,” she said with a sleepy little grin, “_Wash_ ‘em, mister.”

He glared at her and she rolled her eyes at him, stating, “Mac, c’mon. I’m fuckin’ tired. Would you just wash ‘em already so I can go the fuck ta sleep?”

He smirked at her, refusing to move, and she shook her head, easing away from him and turning her back on him to head out of the bathroom. He frowned at that. She’d leave him that easily? She wouldn’t insist on him doing what she’d told him? She wouldn’t stay there to make sure that he’d washed his hands like she’d insisted, scolding him like a mother scolded her child?

He heard a loud crash and a shouted “Son of a _bitch!_” and his hand washing thoughts were quickly pushed aside. He hurried down the hall and stopped at the bedroom door. It was nearly pitch black in there and he had _no_ fucking idea where she was. The noise had _sounded_ like it had come from his bedroom though.

“Ziva?” he called.

She pushed herself up onto her feet and he heard snapping and cracking underneath of her as cheap, plastic coat hangers broke beneath her feet. She hissed in pain but kept on walking. Empty cigarette cartons bent under her tiny feet and he knew she’d be stepping on dirty clothes too. His room was always a disaster zone. Hell the whole fucking house was for that matter.

She made her way over to the bed and sat down. Mac made his way over to the window and pulled the blinds open to let the moonlight filter into the room. Ziva had one foot between her hands, her leg bent at the knee as she examined the bottom of her tiny foot. Blood was running down her foot and she heaved a sigh.

“Just my fuckin’ luck…” she mumbled.

“Let me fuckin’ see it,” he told her, reaching out for her foot.

She glared up at him and snapped, “Don’t touch me with your piss hands, Mac! I’ll take care of it myself. I’ll do it _first_ thing tomorrow. I’m too fuckin’ tired ta piss around with it tonight. And, quite frankly, I don’t feel like cuttin’ my _other_ foot open just ta get back across your fuckin’ bedroom. I’ll deal with it tomorrow, when I can actually see shit and I have the patience to deal with it.”

She grabbed one of his dirty wife beaters from the floor and lifted it to examine it before using a cleaner portion of the white cotton to wipe the blood off of her foot. Then she threw it onto the floor and laid down on the bed. She slid her cuffed hands underneath the pillow and tucked it against the side of her head before closing her eyes and proceeding to ignore him.

Mac made his way around to his side of the bed, grumbling all the way, and climbed onto the bed. He felt her reach down to grab the sheet and tug it up to her chin before cramming her hands under the pillow again and nuzzling her cheek against the pillow.

He stared up at the ceiling. Yeah… This was going to be one _hell_ of a rough situation if he actually decided to keep her for a while.

** Albanian Translations: **

_Babai – _father

_Babai – _father

_Babai – _father

_Bir – _son

_Bir – _son

** Spanish Translations: **

_Diablos – _devils

**Now press that magic button down there and let me know what you thought or I _might _just have to sick Mac on you. He gets grumpy if he doesn’t get reviews. And then he throws tantrums and refuses to let me post again.**

**THANK YOUS: First off, I’d like to thank each of you that actually read this. Secondly, to anyone who’s _ever_ reviewed a chapter or one-shot for me or taken the time out to look me up on Facebook, message me here in Fanfiction, or email me, I fucking love you. Anytime I hear from a reader, it makes my day, no matter _what_ shit I’m going through.**

**To the girls from the “Manic Mac – A Red Canyon Community” I started: You’re all brilliant and very talented. I hope you’re reading this but, even if you don’t, I still love you anyway. It’s always nice to know that you have partners in crime that share a sick, twisted love for one Mr. Manic Mac.**

**To Mizu.no.Oujo.1967: Thank you for being a source of support and encouragement, dear. And thank you for hanging in there with me during my hiatus. In fact, you’re one of the _two_ fucking readers that bothered to look me up on Facebook. So I can’t thank you enough for your patience and support. I’d also like to thank you for taking the time out to send me messages here on Fanfiction and Facebook as well and trying to get to know me as a person. I’m happy to consider you a friend, dear.**

**To taliamarie77: You’re probably one of the sweetest fucking people I’ve managed to meet since I started posting here on Fanfiction and I’m definitely happy to call you a friend, dear. I’m always happy to hear your suggestions on Facebook and I’m always thankful for the feedback. You actually looked me up on Facebook and you took the time out to get to know me as a person, and I can’t thank you enough for that.**

**To BorchMadsen: You’re fucking brilliant, dear. You’re my Mac-xpert. My go-to girl when I have questions about anything involving Mac. I know I can come to you because you’ll be brutally honest with me and I don’t want someone pussy-footing around with me when it involves my stories. You’ve been my friend for several months now and I can’t express to you how much I value your opinions and your help with my brainstorming process. You’re invaluable – and don’t you _ever_ let someone tell you any different.**

**Last – but _definitely_ not least – to Shadows7X: I fucking love you. For 6 1/2 years now, you’ve been my _constant_ source of support, encouragement, and inspiration. I would’ve given up writing _years_ ago if it wasn’t for you. You’ve spurred me on when I faced writer’s block. You helped me through some of the toughest experiences in my life. You’ve been there for me on a daily fucking basis. And I will _never_ be able to truly express to you just how much you mean to me. I’ll _never_ be able to express to you just how grateful I am to have you in my life. You’re the most influential person that’s ever had a presence in my life, hands down. You’ve introduced me to several of my current addictions – Garrett Hedlund, Henry Cavill, The Walking Dead, which of course led to Norman Reedus in general – and then Red Canyon. And I introduced you to Avenged Sevenfold, which we _both _know you love me for. And then there was Michael Myers and Thomas Brown Hewitt. *sticks tongue out and crosses eyes* I love ya somethin’ fierce and don’t you _ever_ forget it.**


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